#together they will. fight through the tall wall of being idiots and realise they have feelings for each other
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timbart shenanigans once more because I have. SO many ideas for them
#obviously the answer was “a Robin” you idiot#tim drake and his inability to comprehend someone is interested in HIS abilities#and not about someone else he’s learned from or who came before him#go Bart go he’s just a bit too autistic to realise you like him#together they will. fight through the tall wall of being idiots and realise they have feelings for each other#Tim drake#Bart Allen#dc robin#fanart#dc comics#animation#timbart#young justice#young just us
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One last time
This is for the anon who sent a really nice ask! If you have asks or ideas send them my way. I love writing Bertholdt x Annie and Eren x Annie. This is an alternate version of Annie’s scene in chapter 133. I hope you enjoy it!
Word count: 1329
It started as a headache, something Annie had grown used to since she woke up surrounded by the shattered remains of her own prison. It set in just after the plane carrying the last hope of humanity disappeared amongst the clouds, a painful throbbing in the back of her head. At first she blamed the lack of sleep, stress and the end of the world but it wasn’t long before it grew in strength.
Eventually Annie sat with her back to the ocean, doing her best to ignore the pain she closed her eyes. In the distance she could hear Falco and Gabi shouting or bickering in the background, the gentle lapping of the sea and the constant hum of the boat’s engine. Then she heard something, someone that turned her blood to ice.
“Annie?”
Annie looked up with wide, fearful eyes and found the boat, ocean and sky had vanished. Now she was surrounded, for as far as she could see, by sand. It sank between her fingers and clung to her skin, causing her to itch as she unsteadily got to her feet. Annie, however, ignored the irritation. Instead she was focused on finding the voice that called her name.
Once she swallowed the lump in her throat Annie found her voice. “Who's there?”
“What are you doing here?” The voice seemingly surrounded her, coming from all directions.
“You… you can’t be here.”
The voice replied with an unsteady laugh. “It’s okay to be confused. This place doesn’t make much sense.”
Finally Annie found the owner of the voice. Bertholdt was standing behind her, as tall as she remembered him although his hair had grown rough and messy. “Where am I?” Annie asked as she took a step back.
Bertholdt looked over his shoulder to a colossal column of light that reached into the sky and spread like a tree. “This place is where everything started… I think.”
“You think?” Annie gawked.
“I haven’t exactly figured it all out. But this is where the Titans come from.”
Annie felt her chest grow heavy. “After all this time you still have no spine.”
“Yeah. I’ve always kinda been unreliable.”
“How am I talking to you?”
Bertholdt looked down at his hands. “I’m part of the Colossal Titan, like how it was a part of me. I think that’s how we see our predecessor’s memories. We’re all descendants of Ymir.”
“So you’re stuck here.”
Bertholdt nodded. “I lost track of time a long time ago, but at least the view is nice.”
“But I’m not dead.”
“I’m glad,” Betholdt smirked. “I was so worried about you. We all were.”
Annie shook her head. “I-if I had escaped, if I had got away then we could have gone home together. Like we should have.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Reiner said the same.” Annie scoffed.
Tears welled in Bertholdt’s eyes. “How is he?”
“He misses you. So does Pieck... So do I.”
Bertholdt let his knees buckle. Falling into a cloud of sand, he looked up at the starry sky. “When I first woke up here I realised the last time I saw you was the graduation ceremony. I just wish I had told you how I felt.”
“What?”
“I loved you Annie. I still do.”
Annie froze. “You can’t just say that,” She stuttered. Especially when you of all people say it so… confidently.”
“Sorry,” Bertholdt sighed. “I just wanted to tell you.”
Annie sat beside Bertholdt and like him, looked to the sky. “Have you seen what’s happening out there?”
“I heard Eren’s declaration and I felt it when the wall Titans woke up but no… I haven’t but at the same time. I haven’t seen your father here.”
Annie felt her jaw slacken. “He could still be alive?” Her voice was close to breaking and the tears in her eyes close to falling.
“Every Eldian heard Eren’s warning and knew what was coming. I don’t think they would have just waited for him to arrive. If they did, there would be a lot more people here.”
“I could see him again,” Annie choked. “I could make it home.”
“Or you could stay here. With me.”
Bertholdt’s words caught her completely off guard. She tried to blink back her confusion but his gentle smile only confused her more. “What?”
“Even if Eren is somehow killed, the world will be ruined. The other nations will go to war over what’s left, after they’ve killed every Eldian they can find. I don’t want you to live in a world like that and I know you don’t want to live in the world Eren is making.”
“You’ve really thought about this.”
Bertholdt brought his knees up to his chest. “I always thought about a life with you. Even though we had the titan powers I never stopped dreaming.”
Annie was glad Bertholdt wasn’t looking at her, she didn’t know how to hide her rapidly reddening cheeks. “Am I an idiot for being so happy?”
This time Bertholdt blushed. “H-happy?”
“A life with no fighting, no killing. A life with peace. It sounds nice and… and it’s nice to be wanted.”
“I wish we had that chance.”
“Mhm,” Annie nodded. “This is such a mess.”
Bertholdt thought about reaching out and finally taking her in his arms but remained still. “It’d be simpler if we stayed together. Maybe we could find a way out of here. Find something better. Together.”
“Could we?”
“Maybe. It’s better than everything out there. A world that hates us and now one built for us on the bodies of billions.”
Annie felt silent with Bertholdt’s words echoing in her head. A chance for peace, forever. She could leave everything else and everyone behind.
“No.”
Bertholdt smiled. “You haven’t changed.”
“You aren’t upset.”
“No. I’m just happy you’re still Annie after all these years. You still believe in yourself above all,” Bertholdt quietly explained. “You’ll have to fight, you’ll have to kill.”
“I know.”
“But don’t forget how many people are there for you. Reiner, Pieck, your dad, Armin and me.”
“Don’t tell me you saw that?” Annie gawked.
Bertholdt ran his fingers through his messy, long hair. “I’m part of him now, I just kinda… heard it.”
“Well I’m jumping in the ocean when I get back.”
Bertholdt laughed. “I think that’s going to have to wait.” He said while pointing to two small figures running towards them.”
“What the hell are those kids doing?”
“They need you.”
Annie sighed heavily. “Things must be bad then.”
“Whenever we needed you were always there. You must have broken a record when you carried us to Wall Maria.”
“We needed each other.” Annie pointed out.
Bertholdt looked down his hand that rested in the sand. “You still do. If Reiner makes it out of whatever mess he’s got himself in he’ll you.”
“What about you?”
“I heard Mikasa say something during training. This world is cruel but also beautiful,” He said as his hand and arm began dissolving into the sand. “I’m happy I got to meet you. I just wish we had more time.”
Annie got to her feet. “Will I see you again?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think you’ll need to. You seem to know what to do.”
“Thanks… and I’m sorry.”
There was no response, only a gentle breeze that disturbed the sand. Annie didn’t need to look back, she knew he was gone and with balled fists walked forward to meet the rapidly approaching figures.
“Miss Annie! Miss Annie!”
With renewed confidence Annie closed her eyes, when she opened them again the open expanse of sand and starry sky had been replaced by the ocean and a column of thick coal dust.
“Miss Annie! I… I had a dream. I think it can help us.” There was a hope in Falco’s voice that made Annie think back to Bertholdt’s words. With a heavy sigh she pushed herself away from the railing.
“So did I.”
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Best Laid Plans
For #aftgsummer
Prompt: Day trip
Pairing: Kandreil
Read here or on AO3
*
Kevin’s plan for the last day of summer is bullet-proof: he has a huge wall calendar, a copy of his class schedule, a note of every Exy match and banquet date, a print-out of essay deadlines and exam dates, and enough pens and sticky notes to stock a stationary shop. All he has to do is put it all together.
Unfortunately, he forgot to factor his partners into the equation.
He is laying out his highlighters by order of preference when the sound of Neil’s head hitting his desk echoes across the room. Kevin doesn’t even bother with a cursory upwards glance; he can imagine well enough the image of despondency that would meet him if he did.
“Is all of second year going to be like this?” Neil groans into his stack of textbooks.
“No,” Kevin answers, at the same time that Andrew says, “Yes.”
“It’s a matter of planning,” Kevin continues, sending Andrew an arch look. “As long as you make a schedule, stick to it, plan out your work periods and your rest times and stick to a regular sleep pattern-” Neil huffs sceptically, but Kevin continues as though he didn’t hear, “You’ll find it perfectly manageable.”
Neil sits up to cast a doubtful look in Andrew’s direction. Andrew simply shrugs. “It’ll work out.”
“You can’t just say that about everything.” Kevin turns back to his planner. He doesn’t realise Andrew has moved from the sofa until he feels the brush of his breath on the back of his neck. Bracing his arm on the back of Kevin’s chair, Andrew leans over him to inspect Kevin’s progress.
“You have every minute of your every day planned from now until Christmas,” he observes flatly. Curiosity piqued, Neil joins him on Kevin’s other side.
“Wow,” he says as he studies the neat blocks of colour denoting Kevin’s activities. “I’m amazed you didn’t plot your bathroom breaks onto this, too.”
“I don’t need a planner to tell me when to take a shit,” he says irritably.
“What about me and Andrew? Do we get our own highlighter colour?” Neil leans forwards, pretending to read from a particular quadrant. “Sunday, seven am, get boned.”
“You two can ‘bone’ all you want at seven am on a Sunday, I’ll be enjoying my one lie-in of the week, thank you.”
Tired of their bickering, Andrew reaches between them to flip Kevin’s planner shut.
“Hey!”
“We’re going for a drive,” Andrew announces. He doesn’t wait for Neil or Kevin’s response, but leads the way with the typical certainty that they will follow.
Kevin and Neil flick a look at each other. The three of them have come as close to telepathy as anyone ever will, and this is the look that says, is this worth fighting him over?
The answer is, as always, a resounding no.
After Neil wins the scuffle for the front seat, Kevin settles into the middle back seat, arms crossed. Neil flicks a triumphant smirk over his shoulder, which Kevin replies to with a scowl. The Maserati’s engine purrs through the leather as Andrew throws it into gear. Kevin lets his head fall back as they pull onto the motorway, mentally mapping out and re-arranging his plans for the day onto the blank fabric of the ceiling. There’s a rustle as Neil finds the packet of peanuts Kevin stashed in the glove compartment, and a moment later one bounces off his forehead.
“Andrew,” Kevin complains.
Andrew sighs heavily through his nose. “Children.”
Neil cackles, and Kevin reaches around the seat to throttle him, and Andrew threatens to pull over and stuff them both in the boot, bringing the scuffle to an end. At some point during their distraction he pulled off from the road that would take them to downtown Columbia, electing instead to loop around the metropolis.
“Where the hell are we going, Andrew?” Kevin watches as buildings give way to long stretches of scrubland, bleached brown by weeks of sun. Midday is approaching, and soon a stuffy car will be the last place any of them want to be trapped. Andrew shrugs and merges onto another road seemingly at random.
“I think I hitchhiked here once,” Neil muses.
“How? It’s so empty.” The road stretches out like an endless tar river ahead of them. Other traffic is sparse to non-existent; the idea of breaking down out here is daunting enough. Kevin can’t imagine trudging along the roadside in the summer heat, waiting for a truck to take pity on him, subject to the chaotic whims of the world. Kevin isn’t as dependant on company as he was when he left the nest, but still the endless stretches of emptiness scratch at the remaining agoraphobia in the back of his mind.
Suddenly, Andrew slams on the breaks, hard enough that the strap of Kevin’s seatbelt cuts off the flow of oxygen. Neil jolts forwards, saved from smacking his face off the dashboard by Andrew’s arm. The bag of peanuts is not so lucky, scattering over the front seats in a cascade of empty shells.
“Fuck,” Neil chokes out. Kevin reaches forward to grasp his shoulder, and Neil clamps his hand down over it, reassuring each other of their presence. They look to Andrew; the hand that was not thrown out to protect Neil is clamped, white-knuckled, on the wheel.
Their explanation stares at them from the other side of the windscreen, a tall, slender deer with large, brown eyes. Its ear twitches as it watches them, caught between fear and curiosity.
“Move,” Andrew says as though the animal can hear him. “Move, you idiot.”
Neil leans across him to tap the horn. Startled by the noise, the deer darts across the road and disappears amongst the trees. After flicking a glance over Neil, Andrew turns to pinch Kevin’s chin between his fingers, turning his head back and forth to inspect the damage. The seatbelt left a red line across his collarbone, which Kevin insists does not hurt. Andrew prods it with his forefinger, and when he receives no reaction, he nods. He cups Kevin’s cheek briefly before letting go, the closest Andrew comes to acts of reassurance.
“She came out of nowhere,” Neil says. Andrew hums in agreement. He taps his fingers against the wheel, but does not start the engine up again until Kevin’s breathing has returned to normal.
They end up weaving along Lake Murray, bursts of endless, glittering blue backing the rows of trees that flash past. Andrew’s speed is unaffected by their brush with the deer, but his eyes don’t stray from the road ahead, not even to take in the glowing vistas as they pass.
Andrew picks an exit at random, and they pull up near a small jetty. At the peak of summer it would be swarmed with fishers and families in campervans. As the season draws to the end, only a few stragglers remain, a mother watching her toddlers chase each other around the picnic tables while kayakers splash each other with their oars a little way out from the boathouse. The boathouse shares its building with a shop that sells snacks and children’s toys. Andrew swings past the plastic bats and balls to raid the slim freezer of its popsicles while Neil stares at a map marking hiking trails and beauty spots.
They sit on the end of the jetty, feet swinging over the edge while they devour their purchases. Kevin catches Neil using his soda as an ice-pack, and the ensuing squabble nearly ends with them tumbling into the lake. Andrew watches them through lidded eyes, popsicle dangling from his mouth as he leans back on his arms. Noticing the reddening patches spreading across the back of Andrew’s neck, Kevin sends Neil back to the shop with a nod, distracting Andrew from his absence by debating which bird species were responsible for the orchestra of chirps and calls echoing across the forest. Andrew scowls when Neil returns with a bottle of sunscreen, but after a lecture from Kevin and pleading eyes from Neil, he submits to having his arms and neck slathered with factor fifty.
Andrew finds a picnic bench in the shade to drape himself over while Neil drags Kevin along a walking trail that meanders along the ins and outs of the coastline, finishing at a sandy outlet that gives then a panoramic view of the lake. Kevin ruminates on geographical quirks and features of the area until Neil grows tired of Kevin’s musings and persuades him to abandon his socks and shoes on the white sand so they can wade along the shallow embankment. The sludgy sand of the lakebed gives way so easily underfoot that for a second Kevin fells as though he’s being sucked down into quicksand. He stumbles, knocking into Neil as he does so. Neil mistakes it for a challenge, and bumps him back. Kevin, having barely recovered his balance, loses it all over again. He reaches out for Neil’s arm in the vain hope of steadying himself, but succeeds only in pulling Neil over with him.
They crash into the water with identical shouts. When Kevin looks up, Neil is pushing his sodden bangs back from his eyes. Neil takes one look at his expression and bursts out laughing. Kevin reaches for Neil’s shirt, the idea of drowning him in the sapphire lake water growing in its appeal, but is distracted from his mission when Neil catches Kevin’s mouth with his instead.
They stay there a while, drenched clothes plastered to their skin as the cool water swirls and laps at them, kissing the salty-sweet taste of the lake from each other’s lips.
They stumble back to the picnic benches, where they find Andrew absorbed in watching birds flit back and forth between the bird feeders hanging overhead. He levels the dripping pair with a long look.
“You have a hickey,” he says to Neil at last.
“Jealous?” Neil responds. Andrew’s eyes flick to Kevin, as good a confirmation as any. Kevin’s lips twitch as he tilts his head to one side, making a show of looking Andrew over.
“He needs more sunscreen,” Kevin announces. Andrew rolls his eyes.
When Andrew is slathered up once again to Kevin and Neil’s satisfaction, Kevin rewards him with a soft kiss to his pulse-point, enjoying the way Andrew’s body shivers under the point of contact.
“You’re dripping everywhere,” Andrew says.
“You think I did this?” Kevin levels Neil with a pointed look. Neil shrugs the accusation off.
They find an empty stretch of sand to settle down on, leaving the sun to do the heavy work of drying them off. After a cursory glance to ensure they’re alone, Neil pulls his shirt over his head and lies it out on a rock, stretching out on the sand.
“Sun lotion,” Andrew reminds him smugly.
“Fuck you.” Neil yawns. Soon, he is fast asleep, head pillowed in his arms while the sun warms his shoulder blades.
Kevin slides his feet around in the sand, mesmerised by the patterns it makes as the grains shift and tumble around him. Andrew arches an eyebrow at him.
“I travelled a lot, back when I was… in the nest. Never to places like this, though. It was always major cities, sporting events, press ops. Even then, my every minute was filled with promotions and endorsements and matches and interviews. I never had time to see much of anything.” Kevin picks up a handful of sand, enjoys the way it sifts through his fingers. “It’s quiet.”
Andrew pushes up suddenly, stalking off back in the direction of the boat house. He comes back with – Kevin blinks – a plastic toy set in a net bag. Little shovels, a bucket, brightly coloured moulds for pressing shapes of crabs and starfish into the sand. He dumps the contents into Kevin’s lap save for a shovel.
“Sandcastles work best with damp sand,” he offers, before moving off to work on his own project. When Kevin looks up several minutes later, most of Neil’s torso is buried in sand.
He makes a sandcastle, then another, then stacks one on top of the other two, quietly proud when the structure holds.
Neil wakes up as Andrew is smoothing sand over his shoulders with the blunt side of the spade. He wriggles to dislodge the wet sludge before hurling a clump at Andrew’s head. Andrew rolls behind Kevin’s larger frame in time to avoid Neil’s attack, and Kevin glares at Neil until he raises his hands in surrender.
As the sun sinks, the sky smooths into a pool of pinks and oranges, and the lake winks the colours back up to the heavens. They lean against each other and watch, side-by-side, while Andrew points out osprey and egrets as they flit from one end of the horizon to the other.
As the sun falls behind the line of the trees, Kevin realises with a start that the day is over, and he hasn’t done any of the things he planned to do with it. Then, he realises with a slow, creeping kind of irritation that quickly gives way to something warm and painfully affectionate, that this was Andrew’s plan all along.
“Andrew,” Kevin says. Andrew hums, but does not lift his head from its resting place on Kevin’s shoulder.
The words escape him, so Kevin doesn’t try to find them. Andrew will understand; he always does, after all.
It’s going to be a great school year.
*
Thanks for reading!
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oh my god guys.... we did it.
1000 followers babey!! I decided to write a fanfiction to celebrate. its going to be linked below but also pasted, and until i work out how to do that cut thing, its gonna be a pretty long post. sorry about that. You can read it on this link though!
Merlin sits on the lake for the last time.
‘I love you,’ he says, almost offhandedly, like he has done every year since the First World War, when the sounds of pain and suffering were getting too much, when he realised that Arthur wasn’t coming back. When he had realised that Kilgharrah had lied.
He said a lot of things then, too.
A lot of things have happened since then. Yet here he is.
Merlin caresses the surface of the water with one finger, watching it swirl around with his light touch. He’s noticed over the years that his longing for Arthur recedes the closer he is to the lake; a sort of numbing to the agony that never improves, even with age and distraction. Merlin welcomes it, rolling up his pant legs and swinging his legs over the side of the dock where he’s sitting. Feeling the cold water of Avalon wrap around his feet and making him feel something other than the fact that Arthur is mere metres under the ground in the Lady of the Lake’s grasp, and has always been just out of reach.
“This is the last time you’ll be seeing me, old friend,” Merlin breathes, looking down at the reflection in the water longingly. “Don’t worry about me, though. I’m sure I’ll join you soon enough.”
The water doesn’t reply.
“I’ll miss you, Arthur, like always,” Merlin continues, “But maybe I’ll find other things to miss. Ripped jeans. iPods. Who knows? This world always spins too fast for its own good.”
And so Merlin stands up, shaking the lake water off his legs, and wipes away a stray tear that’s escaped from his brimming eyes. Goodbye, Arthur. He voices the sentiment aloud, back turned to the lake at last.
“Not a chance, you idiot.”
Wild-eyed, Merlin spins, and there he is, standing at the end of the dock. Just a few feet away.
There Arthur is, standing there dripping wet with seaweed in his hair, and he looks so real and exactly how he looked all that time ago in Camelot.
Merlin just stands there for a moment, forgetting how to breathe.
“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says with the haughtiness that he’s always possessed, and Merlin chokes on tears.
Then he runs to Arthur, almost slipping on the wet planks. He grabs onto Arthur's rusted chain mail with both hands, tackling him, and the momentum carries them both off the wooden dock and into the icy waters below.
They sink for a moment, locked in a tight embrace. Then Merlin remembers where they are and kicks up, gasping for air. He tugs Arthur up to the surface with him, and there Arthur is in his arms again.
“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says after coughing up some lake water, smiling that stupid smug grin. Merlin sobs once more, an ugly wretched sound, and smashes their mouths together.
Arthur sighs and pulls Merlin closer into a tight embrace, and now with no one to keep them upright they start sinking.
It’s okay, though, because Merlin’s got Arthur and he’s never letting him go.
Fast forward now— to them crawling onto the beach and collapsing on the rocks. Merlin can’t take his eyes off Arthur and his blue eyes, strong shoulders, all here on land. He swallows, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Arthur laughs, a joyful, imperative sound, and Merlin feels like throwing up.
It’s like
“Hey,” Arthur says gently. “Merlin. C’mere.”
Merlin wants to tell Arthur everything he’s missed. He wants to scream and dive back into the icy lake, down to the realm where Arthur was kept from him and demand an answer to the question he’s been asking for centuries; why wait this long?
But eventually Merlin just nods and lets Arthur hold him close. He lays his head on Arthur’s chest and listens to Arthur’s heart beating, the way it had all those years ago.
“Why did you say that?” Arthur murmurs after a while.
Merlin sits up, cupping Arthur’s face in his hands. Just because he can. Just so he can feel that cool skin against his palm again. “Why did you say goodbye?”
Merlin swallows. “Is that why you came back? Because I was leaving?”
“I thought you were going to kill yourself, Merlin,” Arthur chokes. “Isn’t that what you meant?”
“I was just going to leave England, Arthur,” Merlins says gently. “I’ve never left, in fear of you coming back and being all alone, but this century I kind of gave up.”
“How long has it been?”
“Arthur, I-”
“How long has it been, Merlin?” Arthur says impatiently.
“It’s been thousands of years, Arthur,” Merlin whispers.
Arthur sighs. “I thought as much. I’ve heard you, you know. Little snippets of stories throughout the years. I’ve known that the world has been changing.”
Merlin doesn’t know what to say.
“I shouldn’t have come back,” Arthur says suddenly. “You were just about to move on, about to live out your life without me; I’ve ruined it.”
Arthur almost sounds like a child, petulant and sullen, and Merlin starts to cry. “Arthur, you coming back is… the best thing that’s ever happened. Please don’t go back there, I couldn’t bear it.”
Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist and holds him for a while. Merlin can’t stop crying, from shock and relief and exhaustion. It’s all catching up to him now, the time spent from Arthur.
“How did you survive, Merlin?” Arthur says softly. “It’s been so long.”
Merlin sniffles. “I don’t feel like talking about it at the moment. Later. Later I’ll tell you,” he promises.
It’s getting cold now; the sun is beginning to set. Merlin doesn’t feel it, but he knows that Arthur would in that chainmail of his. “Want to come home?” He asks.
Arthur smiles. “I would love to find out what small hole you’ve dug for yourself,” he teases. “Do they still have peasants, Merlin? I bet you’re one of them with those holes you have in your jeans.”
“It’s called fashion, Barbara, look it up,” Merlin retorts, feeling a light buzz in his chest at the banter that they’ve already fallen into. He stands up, brushing off his soaking jeans and offering Arthur a hand.
“What did you just call me? Barbara?” Arthur mumbles, but doesn’t get a reply. They make their way across the grass and into the city.
Merlin’s managed to get Arthur into his apartment somehow; he’s been reminded in the past ten minutes how much the world has changed since Arthur’s been gone (he refuses to ever say die, it’s too finite), but also how much it’s stayed the same.
“Look, here’s the bath, see?” Merlin says cheerfully as he peels off a dazed Arthur’s sopping wet clothing in the bathroom of his apartment.
Arthur’s doing great really. He got a little frightened of the cars, almost drawing out Excalibur before forgetting that it was still in the lake, but the tall buildings didn’t seem to phase him too much. Neither did the elevator. Merlin’s proud of him through the shocked haziness that’s been fogging up his mind.
Merlin turns off the water when it gets to an appropriate height, then helps Arthur get in. Then he peels off his own clothing and clambers into his bath without thinking about it too much, then turns red, not wanting to assume, or impose. He doesn’t have to worry, though, because Arthur crinkles his eyes up in a cute fashion and grasps Merlin’s hands in his. The warm water seeps into Merlin’s skin and into his heart.
“I love you, Merlin,” Arthur says suddenly, without warning. Merlin laughs, a happy, bubbly feeling rising up inside him like champagne, and brings their intertwined hands up to his reddening chest.
They’re sitting closer now. “You haven’t changed one bit, you know that?” Arthur asks.
“You haven’t either,” Merlin whispers, realising how close Arthur’s golden face has gotten.
Arthur ignores him in a very Arthur fashion. “Your eyes are still so dark,” he breathes with an air of arrogance, like he’s studying something on the wall. “And your hair is still so messy. Why is it always so messy?”
Merlin fights down the urge to reach up and fix it, because he’d have to let go of Arthur’s hands that are rubbing calming circles on his skin. “Is that a problem for you, Arthur?”
“No,” Arthur says seriously. “The problem is that I find it endearing.”
Merlin laughs, turning even redder with the steam rising up from the water, and Arthur leans in to kiss him.
Everything makes sense now, as Arthur untangles their hands and reaches up to wet Merlin’s hair with his fingers. It’s all coming together for the first time in centuries. He suddenly realises that he would do it all again, wait all these years one hundred times over, to kiss Arthur. He tilts his head to the side and lets Arthur kiss him until the water gets cold.
Later, when Arthur’s dressed in Merlin’s sweatpants and they’re lying in Merlin’s bed, Arthur asks a very important question.
“What do we do now?”
Merlin sighs out a long breath. “We sort things out, I suppose. There’s so much you need to learn about what you’ve missed; we can go travelling. I’ve always wanted to go travelling.”
Arthur smiles. “That sounds good. You teaching me things. That should be interesting.”
Merlin laughs, shoving him a little.
But Arthur frowns again. “What about us? We can’t just say warm fuzzy things to each other forever, you’ll get bored of me. It’s also very improper.”
“I’ll never get bored of you, Arthur,” Merlin breathes, chest tight. “I waited this long, didn’t I?”
Arthur just stares at him then, deep in thought, then pulls him into a long kiss.
When they pull back, Merlin also adds, “And it’s okay to be gay now, okay? No one cares about blokes kissing blokes. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Really?” Arthur laughs, scratching his head. “That’s weird.”
Merlin smiles, then pulls Arthur close again, suddenly not bearing to not be touching completely. Arthur rests his chin on Merlin’s hair and hugs Merlin back gently.
“I love you,” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s bare chest.
Arthur pulls Merlin closer. “I know, clotpole.”
“Hey, that’s my word.”
Then Merlin starts laughing, a strange mixture of relief and joy. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say that.”
Arthur kisses the top of Merlin’s head. “I suppose we’ll be alright then.”
“Yeah, Arthur. We’ll be all right.”
#merlin#merthur#bbc merlin#iris writes#merthur fanfiction#iris babbles#merlin bbc#arthur pendragon#arthur comes back#fluff#1k#angst with a happy ending#1000 followers babey#im so happy#(i mean its not a big deal)#but still#fandom#fanfiction#long post
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Could you write something about Benlives AU, Juno asking for Bens help and Ben meeting the crime crew?
Aaaaaa I love this yes thank you!!!
It’s been months since Benzaiten saw his twin. Juno didn’t tell him where he’s going, just that he’s leaving this miserable city behind. And he was happy for him! He really was. Juno’s been depressed for a long time, killing himself for the city they grew up in, the city that sure didn’t take it easy on the two of them, and most of all on Juno.
So even after almost losing him twice in the span of a single year, Benzaiten let go. They weren’t codependent by any means, never. They were very close, and were each other’s support for many, many years and through many, many nightmare scenarios, but they each had their own life. That didn’t mean, of course, that he didn’t really miss his brother.
He was in his studio, idly dancing a routine he wanted to teach his students in the advanced class of his Oldtown program. His idea, teaching a few classes for free in Oldtown to get kids away from their shitty situation, was working pretty well.
“That’s a nice one, Benten.” A quiet voice came from the door, making Ben lose his balance as he turned to look at the source. Just as he thought, Juno was standing at the door, and... he wasn’t looking good. He was covered with what Ben has long learned to identify as sewer sludge, and his singed coat was seeping blood from an array of cuts. That were still bleeding.
“Juno, what the hell happened to you?” He rushed to his brother’s side, eyeing him with a too familiar gaze, like he always did when they were still kids, and Juno would always get in fights with people bigger and meaner than him.
“Got into a fight. Long story. Do you still keep first aid supplies stocked in the studio?” Juno leaned on the wall, eyes exhausted but ultimately relieved.
“Of course. Stay here, I’ll get it and patch you up.” Ben started leaving, but Juno grabbed his arm. He didn’t mind the sludge, but he did mind his twin’s weakened grip. He was clearly exhausted.
“No time. There’s... I need to get back to the group. People got hurt. Our medic’s unconscious and we’re out of supplies on hand.” Juno swallowed, still heavily leaning on the wall. Benzaiten looked at him briefly, questions whirling through his brain, before nodding. “Alright. I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t, Ben, we-“ Benten didn’t even let him finish.
“If you’re the here, and you’re alone, it means you’re probably the least hurt one in the group, or one of the least hurt, at least. You’re not in any state to patch others up right now, not without being treated first. I’m healthy, I know how to do this pretty well, and I’m going, Super Steel. No questions.” He took his large first aid kit on one shoulder, and stood in front of his brother, who started leading the way.
~~~
“I’ve been concussed many times before, but I don’t believe this is the meaning of seeing doubles.” Jet said as he saw two figures approach, looking relatively similar. Juno Steel was leaning on a leaner, less scarred man who looked a lot like him.
“Yeah, you’re welcome, big guy.” Juno grunted, stepping away from the other man and approaching them. The stranger rolled his eyes, and Jet could understand his feelings perfectly. He appeared very familiar with Juno’s antics.
“Sorry about him. I’m Benzaiten. Call me Ben.” He reached his hand for a handshake. Jet liked him. He shook his hand as best he could while he was holding Vespa’s head in his lap. She was unconscious, her legs as broken, and she was bleeding from multiple blaster and knife wounds, but not too much. She will be fine.
“I am Jet. You seem quite familiar with Juno’s behaviour.” He observed neutrally as Ben dug through the bag. The younger man laughed heartily.
“You can say that. We’re twins. If anyone knows Juno’s bullshit, it’s me. I’ve been dealing with him for forty years.” He took out a bone knitting injection.
“Ha, ha. Don’t get me started on the stuff I had to deal with from you.” Juno mumbled, wiping his mouth from the blood he was spitting out. Ben frowned with concern, before administering the injection into Vespa’s thigh through her jeans. He looked like he knows what he’s doing. Juno kneeled next to them now, swaying side to side. He didn’t look very well, and if he was being honest, neither was Jet.
“I tend to believe him, Juno. You do get into quite a lot of trouble.” Jet kept his voice neutral, knowing it might rile Juno up, but feeling the need to be completely fair. Also, he did enjoy the harmless teasing.
“Let’s just get everyone bandaged and go.” Juno just sounded tired as he pulled disinfectant from the bag and went to Jet’s other side as Ben worked on Vespa’s wounds with a frown on his face. Once Vespa was bandaged, Ben looked at Juno severely.
“Okay, now show it.” He crosses his arms.
“Show what?” Juno asked, finishing the bandaging on Jet’s arm.
“Whatever injury you hid from everyone like the heroic idiot you are. I thought we’ve been over this, you have to look after yourself.” Benzaiten said, rushing to his brother’s side just as his knees started to buckle from under him.
“For the record, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m still in better shape than those two combined.” He grumbled, letting Ben see the blaster graze to the side of his stomach.
“Yeah, right, Super Steel. Now sit down and let me check this. You’re going to need stitching.” He said, beginning to work through the process of cleaning the wounds.
As soon as everyone was stitched, Jet wanted to go back to the rendezvous point they agreed on before the mission. But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to both carry Vespa and support Juno.
“I’ll help you get them there.” Benzaiten said quietly. “Whatever you all are doing, I bet it’s illegal. I also bet it’s dangerous. I get that it’s dangerous to trust other people, but... there’s no way I’m rating you out. Not when I know how much Juno cares about you, and not in general.” He promised, looking up at Jet’s eyes. He considered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of it all, then nodded.
“Very well. We must proceed carefully then.” He started leading the way for the ship, using the map on his comms. He called Rita, informing her of their situation. She updated him on the situation of everyone on the ship as well. They were all relatively unharmed. He was relieved. The trip down the sewers was relatively quiet, besides Benzaiten’s humming.
~~~
“Mistah Ben! Whatcha doin here?” Ben was surprised to see Rita near the ship. He smiled, waving at her.
“Hi Rita, long time no see. Gotta say I’m not too surprised you’re here. Juno wouldn’t have survived a day without you, probably.” He laughed, getting elbowed in the ribs by his brother who was leaning on him.
“Jet, darling, do you mind getting Vespa to the infirmary? Thank you dear. Now, welcome. I’m Buddy, and I’m the captain of this ship.” A tall redhead woman walked forward, hair covering a half of her face. She reached out a hand for a handshake.
“Benzaiten Steel. Nice to meet you. Can’t say Juno told me anything about you, but...” Ben smiled, trying to be polite and friendly.
“He better not. But now that you’re here... how about we get your brother into the infirmary and then we talk?” She asked, a weary smile on her face as she took some of Juno’s weight off his shoulder.
“You’re both overreacting, I’m fine.” Juno groaned, doing his best to support his own weight. Buddy rolled her eyes.
“Hush darling, you’re going to the infirmary until you can actually stand on both legs. If Vespa was awake she would’ve already knocked you up herself, and I will not hesitate to do the same.” She said with a fond smile, and Ben laughed. He should’ve tensed. He should feel his skin crawling with the insinuation of this woman hurting his brother. He should want to grab Juno and hide somewhere small and dark like they did so many times as kids and like he still never fully forgot.
But he didn’t. Because she wasn’t threatening him. No, she was being kind and considerate. Careful not to act intimidating or move sharply. Juno didn’t even flinch, and he was much more sensitive to the implicit threats in interactions. The realisation dawned on him that she’s acting like a mother might’ve acted. Like their ma never did.
Once Juno was safely deposited in the infirmary (manned by one Peter Ransom, who Benten noticed looked extremely concerned about Juno), Buddy lead him out to what seemed to be the common room of the ship.
“Thank you for your help, Benzaiten. I appreciate what you did for my family.” She said, pouring two glasses of a drink which was unfamiliar to Ben, but smelled distinctly alcoholic. She pushed one glass toward him.
“Sorry, I don’t drink.” He apologised, pushing it right back. He quit when he was fourteen, and tried his best not to return to old habits. He almost did at nineteen, after his near death experience, but he held strong. “But... really, it’s no problem. You looked really concerned about that woman... Vespa, right? I think Jet mentioned her name. She’s going to be okay. I’ve seen weaker people come back from worse.” He tried to offer encouragement. Buddy shook her head with a smile.
“I know that, darling. My Vespa’s been through much worse and bounced back, and both Jet and Juno are very capable, but there’s always a few when you know your family is in danger and you aren’t there to help.” Her voice was deep and soft, lulling Ben into a sense of security. A realisation hit him, shocking in its strength.
“You consider Juno part of your family too.” He looked at her, stunned, and she let out a low chuckle.
“Well of course. All the people on this ship are my family. We live together, we work together, we protect each other and care for each other. In my opinion, that is the essence of what family is.” She leaned forward, confident and comfortable, like a queen on her throne.
“This... I bet he doesn’t say that, but this has to mean a lot for Juno. We never had much family growing up except for each other, so this... this is huge. Thank you. For being his family.” He looked away, a soft smile still on his face. It looked sad.
“It’s not a problem at all, darling. You’re also welcome to see yourself as part of this family. I assume you wouldn’t stay, but my family’s family is my own.” She offered him a hand again, and he hesitated before shaking it firmly. “Welcome to the family.”
#fic#the penumbra podcast#tpp#penumbra podcast#juno steel#benzaiten steel#rita reducted#rita lastname#rita penumbra#jet sikuliaq#tpp jet#tpp juno#buddy aurinko#tpp buddy
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IF YOU WANT TO GET WARM, YOU MUST STAND NEAR THE FIRE (Parts 6 & 7)
Chapter 6.
Guy was true to his word that he wouldn’t lose his cool again. Over the next couple of days he didn’t mention being dead or feeling unreal, much to Hope’s relief. She just let things drift, wanting to make sure he was stable and grounded in reality before she touched on the subject of him moving on again. She tried not to think too much about the wisdom of unceremoniously allowing a strange man to, essentially, move in with her. The truth was, she enjoyed having someone else to look after, she had missed that since her father had died a year ago. And she still worried about him. He may not have said anything so obviously delusional since the night of his breakdown, but Guy still acted like a visitor from another planet, watching her perform the most mundane tasks with a look of intense concentration, and acting like he didn’t recognise the most common objects. The strangest thing, Hope thought, was that in every other respect, he seemed completely sane and clear-minded. He never forgot anything she told him, and if he commented on something, his observations were intelligent and to the point. He offered to help her chop food or carry heavier objects, and she let him because her shoulder was still bandaged. He generally spent the hours she worked on her PhD dissertation staring out of the window, acting like the city traffic was the latest blockbuster. He had developed a love of showers, but other than that, he was polite and distant and never mentioned leaving.
On the third day, the bandages had come off Hope’s shoulder, and the cupboards were looking alarmingly bare. When she saw Guy wearing the same clothes she had given him for the third day in a row, and persistently scratching his ever-thickening stubble, she decided she should pick up a razor, toothbrush, and a few other necessities along with the groceries. Just to tie him over for a few more days, she swore.
“He isn’t some stray cat you can adopt, Poppet,” Gran’s voice said in her mind, and Hope giggled at the thought of Guy proudly offering her a dead mouse, or clawing her if she fussed over him too much.
“Guy, I need to go to the shops for a few things, I’ll be back soon ok?” she called from the front door. Guy got up and said “I should come with you,” and Hope was pleased that he was volunteering to leave the house.
I should pick up some leather conditioner and sort his clothes out, she told herself. It might help him get a feel of his own life, if he is wearing his own clothes again.
On the way to the supermarket and back, Guy stayed at her side, always somehow walking between her and the traffic, like some gentleman from the ‘50s (Gran, you’d approve, thought Hope giddily,) always watching everything wide-eyed, like he was taking mental notes.
When they were almost at the house’s door, a group of boys, around 13-14 years old, were leaning against the wall of the building across the street. When they saw Hope looking at them, they started nudging each other, hooting with laughter and making loud mooing noises. She flushed, and gave them the finger.
Guy looked at her curiously. “Why are they making cow sounds?”
“Just ignore them, they think it’s clever to make fun of people,” she said under her breath, eyes fixed resolutely forward.
In an instant, Guy had dropped the bags he had insisted on carrying, and was lurching towards the boys, a towering figure in riding boots, ill-fitting clothes and a face straight out of a bar fight, finger pointing, bellowing “YOU! You will apologise to the lady this minute!” The boys squealed and legged it around the corner, still shrieking with laughter.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get in the house” hissed Hope, dragging him through the door mortified.
“What the hell was that?” she glared up at him, hands on hips.
“I was teaching those little whore-sons not to disrespect you!” He looked taken aback at her reaction.
“They were just a bunch of idiot kids!”
“They should learn to hold their tongue, before someone cuts it off for them,” Guy said sulkily.
“We. Do. Not. Attack. Idiot. Kids.” Finger poking his chest, underlining every word.
“As you wish,” Guy said stiffly, and he actually sounded offended.
Hope felt a sudden urge to burst in hysterical laughter. Of all the unlikely people to want to defend her honour!
“I can look after myself, Guy,” she said more softly, taking pity on him. “I can give as good as I get!”
“I know, I’ve heard you curse,” he smirked, and she laughed at him all the way to the kitchen.
Chapter 7.
Guy was on edge, his temper bubbling, just barely staying under the surface. He knew he had a lot to learn about this world before he could venture out and make his mark, he’d been a soldier long enough to understand the wisdom of reconnaissance. Still, it was many years since he had been so powerless, and having to rely on charity made him bristle. He could feel anger winding tighter and tighter inside him, and he clenched and unclenched his fists, longing for release; How he regretted not getting the chance to beat those craven braggarts to a bloody pulp!
Hope stood at the kitchen table, her mind spinning. She hadn’t paid close attention to Guy’s clothes before, but as she was spreading the conditioner on the dried and cracked leather, carefully massaging it in, she could see the many odd details on the trousers. They were obviously good quality, she could tell that even now, as the thirsty leather was becoming soft and supple again under the pressure of her massaging fingers. The seams were strong, but the stitches were uneven enough that you could tell they were done completely by hand. At the front, instead of buttons or a zip, two rows of holes were punched into the leather, and a leather cord had been threaded through them to keep the trousers closed. Hope shook her head, remembering Guy’s apparent ignorance of every-day customs and objects, the archaic words he sometimes used, even his accent (that she had to admit, having googled a number of videos, *could* conceivably be described as Anglo-Norman.) If this was a delusion, she thought as she kneaded the cream into the leather, it was an incredibly detailed one. And she was starting to have her doubts.
As Guy was pacing, simmering in his resentment, his eye caught Hope standing in front of the table, her back turned to him, hands working on something he couldn’t see. Curious, he moved to get a better view, and he realised she was bent over his leathers, applying some kind of cream, hands rubbing thoroughly over the trousers’ thighs and crotch, her whole body moving with the motion, making her ample buttocks jiggle. All of a sudden, Guy’s anger was replaced by something else, equally hot and seething, as his body remembered how long it had been since anyone had touched it like that.
Hope heard Guy coming up behind her, and felt his breath on the side of her face as he said in a low voice, “You should have let me punish those boys...”
She turned around, and found herself wedged between Guy and the table.
“Don’t worry about it, Guy. I’m used to it, it doesn’t bother me.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t bother you when someone like them disrespects you to your face?”
Shrug. “All they can see is a big girl walking down the street, and to them, it’s a joke. Why should I care what someone like that thinks of me?”
He bent his head slightly, to look into her eyes. She was tall, the top of her head reaching his nose. “Would you care to hear what I think of you?”
Hard swallow, nod.
He touched her hair, “I think you’re kind,”
Run his finger down the side of her face, “I think you’re brave,”
Breathed in her ear, “I think you’re beautiful.”
Hope snorted, and he moved his head back to stare at her. “You think I’m jesting?”
“Aren’t you?”
“See for yourself,” he said, pressing his body against her, stubble tickling her cheek, and then he kissed her.
And, oh! she was lost, and they pressed against each other, sharing the same breath, tongues twisting, and he moaned in her mouth, and lifted her onto the table, taking his shirt off, hands under her top, on her breasts and around her back, as they rocked together.
Afterwards, Guy rested his forehead on hers, catching his breath, and she stroked the many scars on his arms, chest and abdomen.
“You really do come from the 12th century, don’t you?
“I told you.”
“I believe you.”
Phew, that was a hard one to write again. I’m really pushing my comfort zone now... But I didn’t think I could write even this much of a sex scene, so well done me!
Tagging @whofriend @moony-artnstuff @fizzyxcustard @tigereyesf @xxbyimm
-Anyone else that would like to be on the tag list, or be removed from it, let me know.
#gisborne x oc#fanfic#sir guy#gisborne#guy of gisborne#my fanfic#if you want to get warm you must stand near the fire#richard armitage#time travel
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Title: Running the bases
Steve was both shocked and annoyed when it was announced Billy had quit the basketball team to join the baseball team. Steve admits, reluctantly, that his annoyance has as much to do with not being able to creep on him anymore, as it has to do with the fact that their best chance of a championship is with him on their team. His shock was simply because, well, Billy had the kind of skills that made other guys envious. He was an amazing player. The kind to win championships. Real scholarship material. It just confused Steve to no end why he would throw that away.
It turned out he didn't. Word got around quickly that Billy's skill on the field was as good, if not better, as it was on the court. And Steve, well, Steve felt his annoyance only grow. Is there anything he can't do! Steve found himself silently fuming as he angrily chewed on his sandwich.
The sudden sound of laughter, and many stomping feet, interrupted his brooding. He looks up and sees Billy for the first time since he quit—and he’s completely geared up from head to toe in the school's green and white baseball uniform.
The uniform clings to every single contour of muscle you can imagine. He struts through the quad like he owns it, and with each step Steve is hypnotized by the bulge of his biceps through the fabric and the pop of both of his pecs in his shirt. A shirt that is tucked into the tightest, sexiest pair of baseball knickers complete with green belt and green piping down the sides. His socks hug two thick, muscular calves, and he’s got on the green and white cleats. He even has on his green cap, and the dabbed eye black across the tops of his cheeks is smeared from practice. Whoa.
"You might want to pick your jaw up from the floor Harrington, you look like your about to start drooling"
Shaken from his stupor he turns to see a girl he doesn't know smirking at him, she looks familiar though… maybe we have a class together?
"No It's not! I'm not… It's not… I mean … I don't know what you mean" Yeah that's not suspicious. Great save Harrington.
"Whatever dingus" She says with a snort and walks off. Steve is sure he hears her mutter "I don't know what they see in you" as she walks away.
With a feeling, almost like panic, creeping in, Steve has a very sudden urge to escape the area before anyone else notices his weirdness. Throwing his half eaten sandwich in the bin he makes a beeline for the school.
He makes it halfway down the first corridor before he is suddenly shoved into a storage closet.
"What the actual fuck!" Steve likes to think he yelled, but suspects he screamed. High pitched and embarrassing. Fuck! Could this day get any worse.
The light switches on, and he's temporarily blinded by the brightness but as soon as his eyes adjust he's greeted by grinning Billy Hargrove. Yep, it just got worse.
"Miss me Harrington" he asks.
"Like the clap" Steve answers automatically, regretting it immediately. Steve was certain that he just escalated the situation to a fist fight, a fist fight in a small enclosed space where he is not likely to come out on top, but instead Billy just laughs.
"I saw you checking out the new uniform." At the reminder Steve can't stop his eyes from trailing up Billy's body, but when he reaches his face he is met with an intense glare. Billy's arms are crossed and he looks about nine feet tall from Steve's corner of the closet. All those muscles... His shoulders are so broad they actually block the exit. There is no escape. Fuck! He's going to kill me, either literally or from sexual frustration, both are very real options at this point.
"So what do ya think pretty boy? Think I'll be able to slide home with how wet I'll be making the chicks at this school?" He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. No, instead he has that same invasive, hypnotizing look. The one that seems to see right through him.
To his horror Steve realises he's not scared in the least by how Billy’s looking at him. Instead, it's worse, he's turned on. Turned on by the strange intensity in Billy's eyes, by the bulges his biceps make when his arms are folded in that tight uniform, and that he could break him in half with little effort.
"So gross dude" Steve answers, all the while silently panicking as he feels pre-cum beginning to leak and soak through his fast tightening underwear.
Billy's eyes draw down Steve's body appraisingly. He licks his lips—naturally reminding Steve that they are very much still there, and very much still plush and kissable as ever—and says "So, you ever feel up a baseball player?"
Steve freezes. He’s no longer blinking. His mouth can’t close. Steve waits for Billy to laugh it off, or maybe mock him some more but instead he takes a step closer.
Slowly, Billy brings a finger to the collar of Steve's shirt and hooks it inside. "C’mon, Harrington." Then he gives it a tug, the top button coming undone with surprising ease. "Tell me you aren't curious to know what's been driving these bitches crazy. It’s the stuff of legends, man." Steve's heart hammers away. His knees quake. "Half the writing on the bathroom walls is about what I’m packing.” Billy pops another button."Go ahead,” he coaxes, his voice silky smooth and languid, “Touch me.”
Time seemed to slow down and the world around them became blurred and unfocused. All that existed in that moment was them.They stared at each other in silence; the only sound in the closet was their ragged breathing.
Steve made the decision, refusing to overthink, and reached out and ran his hands across Billy’s flat, muscular stomach. He was fascinated by the warm radiating through Billy's uniform. His fingers traced the hard muscles before moving to Billy’s hips. He took a moment to rub his palms over the belt, before slowly moving his hands around to the dimples of his ass in those tight pants.
It’s not lost on Steve that Billy's crotch is bulging dramatically. Holy shit; he’s getting off on this weird as fuck scenario too.
“Like how my ass feels Harrington?” he asks.
“Yes” Steve chokes out.
“Unbuckle me.”
Steve's didn't have to be told twice. His fingers fumble with the belt, hands shaking with excitement. Next comes the button of his pants and then the zipper, which slowly parts the dirt covered white sea of fabric to reveal his thick, hard cock enclosed in a white jock. Steve groaned at the sight. Why the fuck is he not wearing briefs? Steve looks up and Billy just cocks an eyebrow and smirks. Steve could feel his racing heartbeat pulsing in his ears. Why am I even questioning this?
Steve wraps his hand around Billy and starts to palm him through the flimsy underwear. Billy takes a shaky breath, but doesn’t do anything else. Challenge accepted motherfucker! Steve tightens his grip and picks up his pace.
At first Billy just smiles smugly, then his breathing begins to get heavier. After a minute he’s practically panting. Steve smirks “Out of breath already Hargrove? How are you going to make it around all the bases with stamina like this?”
Without warning Billy grasps Steve's shirt, pulls his face to his and fucking devours his mouth. Steve felt like he was just a piece of meat, a toy for Billy's own personal use. That really shouldn’t be hot. Steve realises he's now practically clawing Billy's back as Billy's reaches around to cup his ass. They’re both moaning into each other's mouth as their hips press firmly together.
The sound of the bell ringing brings reality crashing down on Steve. It’s the middle of the day and they are on school grounds. Anyone could catch them.
Steve breaks away from Billy and says “C’mon we need to head to class. Lunch is over. I can’t be late to biology, Mr Greene will have my ass.”
“But I want to have that ass.” Billy says as he squeezes Steve's ass cheeks.
Steve wavers for a moment, but then Billy says "It's not like you were going to contribute, or even pay attention"
What the fuck! Steve pulls completely away and scowls. "Fuck you Hargrove"
Billy lifts an eyebrow. “Did I strike a nerve? It's not like you're known for your scholastic aptitude. I was just saying there's a better use of your time”
Steve ignores him, and buttons up his shirt.
"I really didn't mean anything by it." Billy says.
Steve just glares and shoves his way towards the door. Annoyingly the shoulder charge hurt him more than the wall of muscle previously blocking the exit.
"C'mon Harrington we didn't even get to third base" Billy jokes.
Steve rolls his eyes, unimpressed with Billy's lame attempt to lighten the mood. Of course Billy refuses to give up. “You have a great grip, by the way.”
"Wasn’t much to grip,” Steve shoots back. Billy grins.
“Maybe you need another grip to remind yourself, pretty boy. I doubt you can wrap your whole hand around it.”
Steve stops with the door half open and turns to Billy. "You know, for a moment there, I almost forgot you were an asshole."
"Steve—"
"I don't want to hear it. This will never happen again" Steve says, then turns to leave. As he walks away however all he could think was "I really want it to happen again"
As he rounded the corner, Billy yells "This ain't finished Harrington.", and Steve shivers as his pulse spikes from excitement. Maybe I really am an idiot because there was no doubt it wasn't.
This was only meant to be a short thing but it got a little out of control lol The fic was inspired by someone post about a baseball au headcannon. I cannot for the life of me locate the post, if you know it please tell me and I will link.
#billy hargrove#harringrove#steve harrington#billy x steve#steve x billy#harringrove au#fan fiction#six sentence sunday#it got out of control#steve harrington x billy hargrove#harringrove headcanons#harringrove baseball au
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Tension - Part 6
A/N YEEEEWWWWW Happy first story of 2020!! Here’s is part 6 to Tension, lets be real here this series is going to end up being a long one cause I keep adding shit to it oops ANYWAY ENJOY XX
Part 6
“Sit up straight,” Abraxas hissed in Y/N’s ear, poking her sharply in the back with his wand. Y/N held back rolling her eyes and obliged, feeling her spine stretch upwards and chest push out as she was supposed to. Legs crossed, arms open, eyes batting, avoid killing self, Y/N rattled off to herself inside her head, gazing around the large ballroom that had been decorated for the annual Christmas eve ball. Or annual pureblood incestuous mixer.
There were twinkling snowflakes hovering above the whole room, moving slowly up and down in the space above the guest's heads. Large ice sculptures lined the outer wall, snakes twisted around each other, and the walls looked like they were covered in ice cracked in large mosaic designs. The ballroom had been re-floored as well, the Malfoy emblem embossed across the centre of the floor, snowflakes painted like they were floating towards the wall and chairs lined across the edge.
Y/N was sitting on the far right, next to a group of girls who were all whispering loudly beside her. Y/N could only catch snippets but was pretty sure she heard something along the lines of “hottest” and “Sirius”. Y/N huffed, stretching her back out as it began to ache on the stiff tall backed chairs. The dress she was wearing was tighter than she was used to, long draping white sleeves with curling lace and snowflakes sewn into the tulle that reached to the ground.
Lucius was standing across the room, leaning against the wall in an obvious attempt to be aloof. Y/N stuck her tongue out at him and he returned it.
“You look like a prat,” Y/N mouthed at him, leaning forward to grin.
“You –“ Lucius went to reply but turned quickly as the doors opened again, being pulled open by two house-elves that Y/N’s dad had hired from another family for the day. Y/N grimaced as one of them stumbled as the next lot of quests pushed through and she saw Abraxas’ eyes flash dangerously towards him. Y/N made a mental note to find somewhere to hide the house-elf before the end of the night.
Y/N glanced up when she noticed a group of people making their way into the ballroom, walking a little slower than normal to make an entrance. The Blacks were walking in together, the whole cousin clan, three girls with long curling hair falling down to their hips and two tall boys with similarly curly hair, one cut short and sleek and the other tumbling over his eyes.
Sirius looked immensely frustrated, pulling at his tie, his mother standing very close to him and kept glancing over to him with a dangerous expression. He looked up, surveying the room carefully and landing on Y/N. Y/N felt her stomach flip over as his grey eyes met hers and his face broke out into a grin. He winked at her, moving into the room alongside the rest of his family as Lucius and Y/N stood up and moved to meet them with their dad.
“Good Evening, Orion and Walburga, Cygnus and Druella, kind of you to grace us this evening,”
“Of course,” Orion smiled gracefully and stepped forwards to shake Y/N’s father's hand. The rest of the group shook his hand or kissed his cheek respectfully as they filed into the hall, Lucius and Y/N standing on either side to receive the secondary greeting. Y/N thanked Merlin that her dad had forced a witch to hold her down and smudge makeup across her face so no one could see the flush creeping onto her cheeks when Sirius grabbed Y/N’s hand and kissed it softly, grinning mischievously as Lucius scowled at him and pulled him off her and towards the rest of his family.
Y/N made a point of ignoring him for the next hour, whilst the rest of the guests were arriving and Y/N felt like she could adequately mingle around the room without meeting his incessant glare. She wasn’t quite sure why she was doing it, it wasn’t like he’d done anything it was just… him being here, in her house, watching her awkwardly try to move seamlessly from group to group with very little to say to each other. When it got to the point that she had done two rounds of the room and had begun to realise she was being an idiot, Y/N sucked in a shallow breath and moved towards where Sirius was pouting sourly in the corner of the room.
“So, someone is looking rather unhappy,” Y/N commented, sitting down beside him and following his gaze towards his parents, who were talking to the Lestranges in dulcet tones.
“Someone seems to have forgotten I invited them to join me tonight,” Sirius retorted, not so much as glancing at her. Y/N’s heart jumped, guilt running over her.
“Sorry, father said I needed to talk to a certain amount of people tonight wanted to tick it off early.”
“Hmmm,” Sirius hummed in response, his eyes still watching his parents closely. Y/N settled in beside him, hoping it was a sign that he was more concentrated on them than her. Suddenly he turned to face her, eyes dark and focused.
“Have they been to your house also?” Sirius asked, surprising Y/N with a change of subject.
“Oh, uh, yeah they have.” Y/N racked her brain to when they had arrived on the Malfoy’s doorstep with a bottle of Firewhiskey and apparently, a lot of information that Lucius and Y/N weren’t privy too, “They were over about three weeks ago.”
“Same here,” Sirius looked back over to them momentarily, “Did you hear anything?”
“Not really, I was trying to fight Luci for the one gap in the door.” Y/N huffed, “I heard something about a meeting? Dad was looking worried when he came out though, which is kind of weird if it’s one of…their meetings.”
Sirius snorted at her use of ‘their’.
“Yeah, it’s not about them, I heard something about a resistance being set up.” Sirius’ voice became lower, his eyes flicking between the two couples sitting on either side of them. Y/N’s eyes widened at him.
“What?”
“Shush!” Sirius glared at her, smiling calmly at the boy who had looked over at the two of them. “Ok come on.”
He stood up and turned to face Y/N, holding out a hand and raising an eyebrow.
“What?” Y/N questioned, giving him a strange look. Sirius sighed exasperatedly.
“Dance with me you idiot,” Sirius re-presented his hand.
“Oh,” Y/N hesitated before taking his hand slowly and standing up to join him onto the dancefloor.
“Have you ever danced before?” Sirius laughed at her as Y/N awkwardly held both her hands on his shoulders.
“Yes, actually,” Y/N glowered, “With you know, an instructor. And in my room.”
“So no,” Sirius laughed, grabbing one hand from his shoulders and holding it in his hand, placing his other hand on her waist and pulling her closer to him. Y/N sucked in a breath and realised she could suddenly smell his cologne. He moved her in a circle with the music, elegantly directing her across the floor and between the other dancers.
“You’re pretty good,” Y/N felt his hand push and pull her body in the direction he wanted, keeping his feet moving in a simple waltz for Y/N to follow.
“Surprised are you? Wait till I start speaking French,” He grinned, clearly happy that he had somewhat impressed her.
“Shut up, Black,” Y/N hissed, rolling her eyes, “What did you want to tell me.”
“Right, so, I could hear only snippets from the hallway, but it sounded like they were worried about another group being set up, against the Dark Lord.”
Sirius spun her out and pulled her into his chest, her back pressed against him.
“I think they mentioned Dumbledore,” Sirius whispered in her ear before spinning her back towards their original position.
“Really?” Y/N felt her mind reeling at the information. Dumbledore setting up a resistance group, against a large chunk of the students’ parents at his school, and even maybe some teachers.
“I’m sure of it.” Sirius continued to move her slowly around the room, but turned his glance onto Y/N, his eyes burning into her own. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Y/N hummed, trying desperately to keep his gaze without blushing. “I mean, who do you think they are recruiting?”
“Who knows, our parents would have surely been discussing names if they already knew.”
“Yeah, definitely.”
There was a tension that had built between them. Each word carefully chosen, to make sure they weren’t saying anything out of line, anything that would imply that perhaps there was something more to the conversation than just sharing information.
“Have you told James?”
“Not yet.” Sirius stepped away as the song ended, bowing low. Y/N curtseyed slightly, going to follow him off the floor but was suddenly cut off by her father.
“Apologies, Master Black, I must steal away my daughter for a moment,” Abraxas’ smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Of course, thank you for the dance,” He nodded at Y/N and walked back to his seat. Abraxas grabbed Y/N’s arm roughly and pulled her towards the entrance to the main house where they were more hidden.
“What are you doing dancing with him,” he hissed at her, eyes flashing and hand still digging deeper into her arm.
“He asked! I thought that’s what I was meant to do at these things,” Y/N winced, trying to keep her eyes from watering.
“You know damn well I said to stay away from that boy, Gryffindor troublemaker, you are not to be seen associating with him.”
Y/N almost retorted, too late, but bit her tongue when he dug in his nails. She wondered if this was the reason he had her order a long-sleeve gown.
“Yes, father.”
“Good, now go and mingle. I hear Master Avery was asking about you.” He let her arm go and pushed her in the direction of the Avery siblings. Y/N smiled tightly and made her way sullenly towards them, not daring to glance over at Sirius whilst her father was still looking.
Y/N didn’t manage to see Sirius for the rest of the night, every time she tried to catch his gaze he seemed to be busy chatting to other girls or his brother. When it came to the night ending she found him leaning against one of the side walls whilst the families had begun thanking Abraxas for the evening and wishing them a Merry Christmas. Y/N sidled over to him, taking the time to walk around the room before reaching him in case her father looked back at her.
“Finally found you again.” Y/N smiled at him, leaning against the wall beside her.
“How often does he do that,” Sirius replied roughly. Y/N paused for a moment. It wasn’t exactly something she spoke about, to anyone. She was sure that Remus had guessed, the bruises that always seemed to pop up when she went home for the holidays in the shape of fingertips and scratches but it was an unspoken rule that they’d ignored it, just like she ignored the steady increase of scars across his body.
“It’s fine, it’s hardly-“
“It’s not fine.” Sirius hissed back, his gaze falling on her father. “I… I get it too.”
Y/N didn’t say anything. She wasn’t really sure what to say back to him. It had sort of become a norm, something that Y/N didn’t really realise was wrong until she heard stories about Remus’ and other Slytherin parents who weren’t quite as fanatical about pureblood strength and grace.
“It’s not fine.” He repeated again, softer this time and stood up off the wall. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah, I think there’s another event around New Years.” Y/N followed him towards the exit, careful to watch the back of Abraxas’ head. Sirius didn’t respond, walking slowly and kicking his feet. Before reaching his family he stopped and turned back to Y/N.
“You know that if you ever need to talk… you know,” Sirius shrugged, looking at his feet.
“Yeah, I mean, I do now.” Y/N responded clumsily.
“Yeah, well. Anyway, goodnight, Malfoy.
“Goodnight, Black.”
Taglist: @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi
@blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan
@thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511
@imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco
@sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad
@evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia
@gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527@desideriaenigma @laue-bb @fk12b @slytherpuffgal @fairtaldes @j-brielmalfoy @your-typical-giggle @davincibrocode @sleepingalaska
#rainandhotchocolate#sirius x reader#sirius black x reader#sirius x you#sirius black x you#sirius fanfiction#sirius black fanfiction
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The one where Corazon is sad
A/N- tried to write a fan fiction based on @workingonit-currently ‘s hc on how the oxventurers acted when they were sad.
Warnings (just incase): there’s cussing, Corazon is an asshole to Dob, Lord Milquetoast being a not good father
It was odd seeing Corazon acting like this. He never went along with stupid impulsive plans usually made by either Dob or Egbert. Well, never was a stretch, but when he was sober, he did not go along with the plans.
However, Corazon hadn’t been drinking, yet when Dob suggested a ‘who could climb this random tall tree the fastest’ competition, he was the first one to agree to it. Prudence tried not to worry about it. So what if he was a bit more impulsive than usual? He would get hurt, and learn not to do it again. Simple.
But that paired with the fact that Corazon has also been too casual. Spending his own money, and spending more than what is needed. Swearing more often than he normally would. Grabbing one of the others arms, or hugging them, or wrapping his arm around their shoulder. If Corazon’s sudden willingness to go along with their plans didn’t raise any red flags, his sudden physical affection certainly would.
Prudence watched as Corazon tipped the bartender, noticing that he tipped more than he needed to. It seemed Dob also noticed, as the half orc nudged him.
“That was a lot of money you just tipped there buddy.” Dob chuckled, finding it somehow funny in his drunken state.
“Did I,” Corazon furrowed his eyebrows, before shrugging,”of course I did. He made a damn fine grog.”
“Are you feeling ok?” Dob asked, now more concerned about the pirate, but Corazon drank his grog, with a small smile.
“Of course I am.”
Prudence frowned to herself. His response seemed incredibly fake, it was almost laughable, but Dob didn’t push any further, which she admitted was probably the best thing to do.
Corazon’s mood increasingly got worse as time went on, and Prudence had started to wish that Dob had pushed for a proper answer from Corazon, or maybe if she did. But that would mean she’d have to admit to eavesdropping on a private conversation.
Now he was permanently irritated at any and everything, which had started to affect the mood of the group. He had started fights with each and every one of his friends, usually ending with either a door slamming or someone (probably Merilwen or Dob) crying.
Having agreed to spend the night on the Joyful Damnation, Prudence, Merilwen and Egbert listened as Dob played his selection of songs, including the lullaby he heard from his sister. He played it often enough for the group to know the lyrics, and it became their go-to sing along song.
Dob strummed some chords on his lute, singing, ”hey now hey now,” before the others joined in singing, to various degrees of success.
“Will you stop with this racket?” Corazon grunting. Prudence was surprised that she had not heard the door open.
“Cor! Come join us!” Egbert patted an empty space next to him, excitedly, oblivious to the scowl on Corazon’s face.
“And listen to this shit melody? I’d rather fucking drown.”
The sound of chords stopped. That clearly struck a nerve in Dob, which made her wince. She may be mean, but even she wouldn’t have made a comment like that. What had gotten into him?
“Bloody hell Corazon,” Merilwen did not look happy, and rightly so,”That’s Dob’s sister’s lullaby. How could you say that?”
“Ah yes, the sister that essentially abandoned Dob,” Prudence glanced at Dob, who stared at the wooden floorboard, clearly trying not to cry,”The one that fucked off to god knows where, to get away from young Dob after he was infected. You mean that sister?”
Egbert slowly pulled Dob into a hug, noticing how his shoulders were shaking. Prudence was glad that Egbert was taking care of Dob. She had no idea how to handle people when they are crying. However, she did know how to handle angry people.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Merilwen was quicker.
“How dare you. You had no right to say that,” it felt weird seeing Merilwen being angry over something that has nothing to do with animals,”You are an absolute arsehole.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Just fuck off will you? If you’re not going to apologise to Dob. Get yourself drunk by yourself.”
“Fine, I will.”
“Fine.”
And like that, he was gone.
Prudence glanced at Dob, who was appreciating Egbert's hug, then to Merilwen. She was starting to calm down, slowly.
“Corazon was being horrid, but i don't think you should have reacted like that.” Prudence said, and Merilwen hummed, biting her lip in contemplation. She said nothing though, instead, turning her attention to the half orc.
Corazon came back to the Joyful Damnation the next morning, suffering from a terrible hangover, and guilt. He tried to apologise to Dob, but it took a good few days for Dob to accept the apology.
It felt like things should have gotten better from there, but once again, Corazon had only gotten worse.
Prudence was ashamed to admit that she did not notice that something was wrong, until Egbert had pointed it out one evening, whilst Corazon was locked away in his quarters.
“Corazon has been weird lately.” Egbert mentioned, earning confused looks from the others.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean.. He’s been wearing that same outfit for like, two weeks now, which he never does, I think.. and he’s spent practically all his time in his quarters. I’m starting to miss his outlandish behaviour.” Prudence furrowed her eyebrows. Was that true? She tried to recall the last time she had seen Corazon willingly spend time with the group, and seemed like he had fun, but she couldn’t remember that happening in the recent weeks.
He was no longer angry, so they all assumed that meant he was starting to feel better, but maybe that wasn’t the case.
“He’s a bloody idiot,” Prudence exclaimed,”um not you Egbert, I Meant Corazon. Why can’t he talk about his damn problems and work through them, instead of giving up like this!”
“you shouldn’t get annoyed with him, we all do the same thing, more or less,” Merilwen looked down at the drink in her hand,”but maybe someone should check on him.”
“I’ll do it.”
She went to his room, first thing in the morning, and banged on his door. She knew Corazon would be awake, and she did not care wether or not Corazon told her to fuck off, but it felt like knocking was appropriate.
She waited, but heard no answer, so she opened the door to find that Corazon was curled up on his bed, staring at his wall.
He did not acknowledge her. She huffed and walked over to corazon, standing in front of him.
“Get up,” She commanded,”You are going to get changed, and eat some food, and have fun with all of us.”
Corazon looked up at her, then away, shaking his head,”No thank you.”
“I didn’t ask if you can do it. I'm telling you.” She could not help but roll her eyes, as she opened up his closet, looking at all the clothes. She had no idea what to pair together, so she simply grabbed a shirt, trousers and boxers, before throwing them roughly in Corazon’s direction.
Prudence kept her eyes on the closet, until she heard the rustling of the clothes stop.
“This shade doesn't go well with these trousers.” Corazon mumbled, sorting out the buttons on his cuffs. He didn't seem annoyed though, it sounded like he was too tired to feel any properly, and Prudence hated it. Why didn’t he talk about whatever is upsetting him, then he wouldn’t be in this state? How didn’t they notice he was slipping? Why didn’t she try harder to help him, instead of stand at the fucking sidelines?
She took a deep breath. Getting angry would not help.
“Well at least they’re fresh clothes,” her eyes scanned over his desk, and she noticed his makeup collection. Corazon’s eyes were also on it,”Would you like me to do your makeup?”
She heard a barely audible,”please.”
She grabbed the eyeshadow palette and eyeliner before sitting down on the bed next to him. Corazon clearly needed a shower, so she shouldn't go over the top.
They sat in silence as she put some dark eyeshadow on him, before moving onto the eyeliner. Thank the lord corazon wasn’t his bossy self, or else he would have been complaining about the eyeliner not being symmetrical.
“I received a letter from my father.” She gritted her teeth, but said nothing,”turns out some people have realised that i simply changed my name from ‘de leon’ to ‘de ballena’. He’s not happy… about them finding out, and also what we’ve been doing. What I've been doing.”
“Who cares what he thinks,” she finished the eyeliner, and looked at Corazon properly,”He has no control over you.”
“You think I don't know that?” there was a twinge of annoyance, as he balled up his hands,”I’m a fucking adult, I’ve lived happily without him for years, yet his words still affect me! It’s crap!”
“Then you talk to us about it, you dufus,” Prudence ruffled his hair, which earned a scowl from him. She waited for an answer, but did not receive one. Even if he isn’t talking now, at least she got something from him. Now, to force him to look after himself. she huffed and pulled Corazon up. He made a noise of protest, but she was not having it.
“Egbert has made breakfast for us all so you are coming with me.”
#oxventure#corazon de ballena#prudence#dob#egbert#merilwen#dnd#meant to finish and publish this yesterday but writers block#I'm just glad that I managed to finish it
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Spanner in the Works- Ch.15
Series Masterlist
Summary: Your car breaks down, leaving you stranded in a small town. Waiting for your car to get the all clear, you find yourself getting closer to Sam Winchester, the handsome mechanic working on it. Will he be able to break down your walls? Or is this just a pit stop before you continue to run?
A/N: Sorry it’s been so long. With exams and being sick, I haven’t had a lot of time to write, or energy. But I’m here now!! Just managed to squeeze it in before the day ended. That does mean it hasn’t been looked over, so I am deeply sorry for any mistakes. And, as always, check out the scent Sam from @scentsfromthebunker for a next-level fanfic experience!!
Warnings: Angst. And a little bit of fluff.
Bamby
Things slowed down a little after your confession to Dean and the aftermath of it all. Sam was still very determined to show you that he was interested in getting to know you, but he was patient at the same time. The next two days that passed, he was close by but left you to do what you needed.
You took the time alone to heal your foot, and think things over.
With everything you’d been through, your apprehensions were warranted. You had every right to feel the way you did. Your worry was understandable. The walls you’d built around yourself were sturdy for a reason, and no one could tell you that was wrong. No one but yourself.
Living a life on the road, running away from all and any relationships, was not healthy. You weren’t an idiot. You knew that avoiding people like the plague was going to kill you. People are social creatures, and even if you preferred to keep socialisation to a minimum, you still felt the desire to be with people. You just weren’t the one to hangout with anyone.
Sam wasn’t just anyone.
If someone had told you a week ago that you’d be spending your time with a tall, gorgeous, smart, caring guy, you would have… well you would have kept running, but just moved a little faster while doing it. Now though, despite that voice inside your head that begged you to leave town before things turn bad, you wanted to… you actually wanted to stay. Maybe not for long, but at least for a while.
“Knock knock.”
Looking up from the window you’d been staring out of while sitting in bed, you turned to the bedroom door and spotted Mary poking her head in.
“How you going, sweetheart?” She smiled as she entered the room.
Shifting on the spot, you gave a small shrug. “I’m… I’m better.”
The brothers had blown up at the auto shop while Mary and John had been there. They’d seen the little fight. Hell, John was the one who had told Sam to take you home- which hadn’t lasted long once you’d realised everyone’s lunches were still in the car. He’d left shortly after helping you inside, and returned later that day with his family in tow. It was then that everyone sat down to get some things on the table.
Mary and John still didn’t know everything that Dean and Sam knew- especially Sam- but they knew you had your issues. They’d known that before you’d all sat down, considering you’d woken them up in the middle of the night with your screams, but now they knew more.
Hearing that you’d lost a lot in your life, and that you’d never really had much to start with, really seemed to make things a little clearer for the Winchesters. Mary was more gentle with you- not that you thought that would be possible- and John’s patience had grown tenfold. In fact, you’d heard him talking to Dean later that evening, scolding his son for his behaviour and insisting Dean treat you better ‘or else’.
“Well, I just wanted to come in an ask…” She stood there, fiddling with her thumbs, showing the first signs of nerves around you.
When she didn’t go on, you pressed her encouragingly, “You can ask me anything, Mary. It’s okay.”
Taking a deep breath, she went on, “There’s a party, a town get together, just a small barbeque. We have one every month, and you just happened to breakdown outside our town the weekend before the party. And I don’t want to pressure you into going, because I know you don’t feel comfortable around so many new people, but I don’t want you to feel left out either. John and I talked, and it looks like your car might not be fixed as soon as we thought, so you might still be around-”
“Mary,” you cut her off, feeling uncomfortable watching her fumble, “it’s really okay.”
Nodding, she finally cut to the chase. “We’re going to a barbeque this weekend and I wanted to ask you if you’d like to join us?”
“A barbeque… with the whole town?” Anxiety shot through you in an instant.
“You don’t have to,” she assured you. “And you don’t have to answer now. I just wanted to let you know so you have time to think it over.”
Knowing she wasn’t expecting you to respond right away, you felt some of the pressure lift off your shoulders. Releasing some of your anxiety, you smiled at her. “Thank you, Mary. I’ll think about it.”
…
Walking out of your room, you headed out into the kitchen only to stop as you spotted Sam and Dean leaning over the bench, drinking greedily as they stood their in dirty and sweaty clothes. You could see a sheen of sweat on their skin as the sun came in through the window, shining right on them.
To say it wasn’t one of the hottest things you’d ever seen would be a lie. Just because you’d been through your own Hell doesn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate things, and you appreciated that view of the brothers. Especially Sam.
As if he could sense your eyes on him, Sam turned. “Hey!” He beamed.
You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Hi. Busy day?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, stepping up to you. “We got a few more cars in. Emergency jobs. All hands on deck kind of day.” He came to stand in front of you… and that’s when his smell hit
“Whoa,” laughing lightly, you pressed your hand to his chest to hold him back. “You stink.”
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Grabbing his shirt, he lifted it to his nose and took a whiff, only to pull back in disgust. “Okay, yeah, I stink. I’ll go jump in the shower, and then…” he hesitated, grabbing your hand as his eyes watched you carefully, “you wanna hangout?”
“That would be nice.”
“Good.” Giving your hand a squeeze, he then let you go and walked off… leaving you alone with Dean.
Dean had kept his distance since you’d opened up to him, but it wasn’t him being rude. When you did catch short moments where you were both in the same room he was more awkward than rude. He didn’t shut you down like he used to, now he mostly fumbled. Every time he tried talking it was like he was doing everything in his power not to insult you. It was getting a little frustrating, if you were being honest.
As soon as Sam was gone Dean began to shift. You were standing between him and any exit out of the house, or out of the room. So getting to an exit meant passing you, and that was apparently too much for him.
“Dean.”
His head shot up and turned to you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
“I’m not some fragile doll. I’m not gonna fall apart if you talk to me. I know things beforehand were a little rough, and that’s what led to me breaking down, but that doesn’t mean everything you say to me will get that reaction. If I’m gonna stay here, in your home and with your family, I want you to feel comfortable.”
“I can’t feel comfortable knowing I was an ass to you, judging you, when I had no right. Not when you’ve been through everything you have.”
“No one knows my story when we first meet. I’ve been treated horribly, and I’ve been treated nicely. Yes, you hurt a little and that fact everyone else has been so welcoming kinda made it worse, but I’m not holding that against you. You shouldn’t either.”
“Sam does,” he noted, surprising you. “He’s been different since that day. Not just with me. He knows you’re on the edge of leaving, of running. Even if you don’t run off now, he knows once your car is ready you’ll be gone. He thinks I haven’t been helping the situation.”
“Whether I leave right away or not has got nothing to do with anyone but me,” you assured him. “You were an ass, I’m not gonna beat around the bush. Doesn’t mean you are an ass. If I ran away from every asshole out there I’d never stop moving. I run away from the good things, not the bad things.”
Leaning back against the counter, he frowned a little. “I don’t know if I want you to tell my brother that or not.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Well, I don’t want him to think I’m pushing you out the door. But I don’t want him thinking he’s the reason you might leave. You make him happy and if he thinks getting close to you will chase you away it’ll drive him insane.”
Sam’s feelings towards you weren’t exactly unknown. He’d made it clear he wants to get to know you. It was scary to think he could get close, that he could like you, and that all over that could hurt either of you.
It was getting to the point where if you didn’t turn away now someone will get hurt no matter what, and the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. Yet you were still here, still thinking things over, taking your time when you should be leaving. You should be putting as much space between the two of you as possible.
“Hey!” Sam came back into the room, wrapping an arm around your waist as he smiled down at you.
“That was a quick shower,” you noted, trying to smile back despite the fact your conversation with Dean had stirred up some fresh anxiety.
“Didn’t want to keep you waiting.” He gave you a gentle squeeze. “You wanna go hangout?”
“Sure.”
Stepping around you, he grabbed your hand and started to back up towards the front door. While he didn’t tell you where you were going or what you’d be doing, you trusted and let him lead you away. Before disappearing outside, however, you looked back over your shoulder at Dean who was watching the two of you with concern in his eyes that made you feel a little uneasy.
As much as you hoped it wasn’t too late the look on Dean’s face told you the truth. Time had run out a while ago. If you were to leave, it was going to hurt everyone.
Bamby
#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester fic#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x y/n#spanner in the works
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A Case Gone South
@exalok
THIS TOOK TOO LONG, I AM SO SORRY.
BUT thank you so much for the prompt! :DD
This is an au where Daud and Corvo both ended up as Private Detectives, taking cases and being rivals in Karnaca.
They both moved on from there in order to pursue more coin and work in Dunwall, and this picks up a year after, where things have ended up rather bad. :’D
Some hints of romance in this, and caring about each other. c:
Corvo's desk was still a mess.
Grumbling under his breath, Daud casually took a glance towards the door, after having let his eyes wander. Staring down into papers and clues always had him look up sometimes, after all.
There were silence from the door, no movement of the handle. Despite the pot in the kitchen being full of food, not being kept warm. Despite Corvo telling him he'd be back within a few hours. Getting up from his own desk just under the window, Daud wandered over to Corvo's, and picked up a few of the papers strewn about, finding himself reading them, yet again, the rain drumming on the windows.
Sometimes, he'd stick his nose into Corvo's cases, just for the fun of it. Sometimes, for the necessity of it. It was not often Corvo would be late, but for the last few weeks, it had been so too many times for comfort. Even Daud had found himself being late, where he met Corvo halfway, the man reaching out a hand to Daud's bruised up face even before saying hello. Daud remembered feeling confused for a moment, then in pain, then... He appreciated it, after the fight he had been in. Even smiling.
All these attacks were coordinated, Daud was sure of it. He'd discussed it with Corvo today, and the fact that he went off this morning to this case anyway...
Resisting the urge to grind his teeth, Daud laid the papers down with a heavy frown planted on his face, and searched through the mess, his hands jerky as he searched. Finding the case papers that was dated for today, 24th of The Month Of Cold 1824, and looking over them all.
What clues his roommate had found, everything he needed.
Every paper he got to had him look more and more pissed, seeing something he'd noted. That Corvo most likely had not cared to think about, as he was worried about money for weeks now.
At the end of his investigation, Daud left as he were, leaving his coat and hat behind on their couch. He only took his weapons.
Slight misunderstandings had a tendency to spiral quickly out of control in Dunwall. Despite knowing this, Corvo had still managed to find himself being careless when circumstance would say he should be careful. For he felt the pull of his work all too well sometimes, pulling at his mind and thoughts like a rat jumping away with it's meal. Inching forward with leaps, leaps to something unknown, with a chance of him losing his meal should he be too careless.
So there were little to no need to wonder how he had managed to get to this point, with his meal practically smeared on the cobblestone.
Yet, Corvo couldn't help but to be pissed about this, about it all.
Pissed at how his case had lead him to this exact alleyway, how he had ended up in yet another fight. He thought at first, from not seeing the men approaching him that the case had been a goose chase, that had from the start lead him into another fight, akin to the last one he took in this district, but seeing them as they stepped into the streetlights from the main street, had Corvo understand all too well that this was a calculated, and paid for visit from these men. Swords drawn, dressed in 'fine' gang attire. Pockets rattling, for sure, Corvo thought to himself as he drew his own sword, ready for whatever were to come to him.
The detective was sure in his swordsmanship, despite his profession, for Corvo made sure he could defend himself if he so needed to. As Daud had, from the beginning of all of this. Their work was dangerous even at the best times, so it never was wrong to try out choke holds on each other or spar whenever they had a few hours free. He still remembered those nights up on the rooftops, how they left the rooftops with bruises all over, that a few clients had pointed out, saying those looked painful as soon as they came into their shared rooms.
All Corvo did was to chuckle and smirk to himself, Daud finding himself with a smirk rivalling Corvo's.
Standing up against the gang of 'finely' dressed men, Corvo knew that if he got out of this at least alive, he could get something out of this "goose chase" of a case. Find out who had done this, after some rest, of course. For he could see all too well that he wouldn't be walking away from this without a single scrape. There were too many men, all oozing of pride from how they eyed Corvo like a training mannequin, to cut and main as they saw fit. As if Corvo wouldn't put up a fight, that this prissy private detective wasn't anything special..
Corvo couldn't' wait to prove them wrong.
The first two men ran at him, Corvo quick to dodge the flying swords by pulling himself up to the nearest wall, the back of his head hitting the window he backed up against with a glassy thud. Not caring about this, Corvo instead moved in to the man closest to him, leaving him with a solid slash across his gut as he Corvo used his own body to knock the slashed gang member aside, and get to the other, who was turning as his fellow man fell.
As the slashed man fell with a bloody scream to the cobblestones, Corvo put a hand on the others thrusting arm, on aware of the other coming behind him for the second it was needed. This resulted in Corvo's chest being locked in a hold, and almost carried off his feet. But the detective was too tall for this, and instead used this to actually toss himself back, with the support of someone holding him, kneeing the idiot who thought he could stab Corvo straight ahead of him in the chin. He bit his tongue for sure, as he growled in pain, spitting out blood and cursing Corvo with slurred words, needing a precious moment to recover.
The heaviness of Corvo had the man's grip lighten enough that Corvo managed to elbow himself out of it, elbowing straight at the ribs. But this gained him a punch in the face from another gang member, now three of them stood against one, for the time being. There were still two left, waiting to go in, like proud peacocks waiting to show off their plumage and take the spoils. Grunting, Corvo's body flew away from the man who just held him, his sword feeling alien in his hand for a moment, but not for long. He was straight back to counter a sword slash at himself, swords clashing together and Corvo pulling back with so much Corvo he managed to stab the man attacking him in the neck, leaving two, for Void knows how long. He wasn't dead, it was a good dent in his neck, but he'd be dead within the minutes, for blood gushed out of him.
Corvo, not even having time to taste the blood running down into his mouth, flew at the man who was standing by for a moment, too perplexed at how the prissy detective managed to slay two of the gang already. And that was his downfall, looking up from his fellow gang member to see a sword entering his chest.
And being pulled out quickly, Corvo needing to turn around before a sword slash flew just behind him.
He was too late, and got a solid slash over his shoulder, having him hiss in pain, all while still moving to drag his sword out of the man. It was easier now that he put more into it from the adrenaline of the pain, and slashed rather wildly sideways as he turned around, not too sure where his attacker was at the moment.
Nor the two others, and he saw it just before it was too late.
The attack he wildly tried to connect with somebody missed, Corvo feeling it by getting grabbed again. Only this time, Corvo proceeded to throw the man that was holding him off, sending him flying into the cobblestones. To then, like a whirlwind, proceed onto the others in a speed that few had seen in their lifetimes, especially from someone who seemed so bulky. It was nothing but muscle, so it was far from heavy to carry, which Corvo proved quite so well.
Soon in the fight, Corvo having held up rather badly due to fatigue, his head was slammed against the cobblestones he had laid the others onto, not being able to hold in the pained gasp that escaped him once the impact landed.
He was tired, already from all of this. Still aching from bruises, and angry. He spent too much energy, and what was left in him was bleeding out on the streets now.
But he wouldn't die here.
Managing to somehow wriggle out of this, Corvo got back up to his feet using nothing but his own strength, dragging himself up from the cobble stones in a hurried motion, in order to not be knocked down again. He luckily wasn't, and managed, within a second, to get the man who kept him down, Corvo doing so out of a need to defend himself, and rather quickly too. A slash across his neck was all that was needed, and he fell down in Corvo's stead, at least, as Corvo saw it.
Now, it was the last two.
They went down easily enough, as one were too shaken from all of this blood, and how Corvo managed to stay as he were, even with all those damned bleeding wounds and bruises, painting his face in a horrid blue and red. At the end of it all, Corvo stood in the same alleyway, panting in order to keep himself breathing. Now that things had calmed down, his body allowed him to feel some of the pain that he was in, and it was not a very comfortable situation, to put it lightly. And the same body, also told him to run. Then, his brain joined in too.
He couldn't be in there, among all those bodies. Even if he told whatever found him, guards or civilians, he'd be blamed for this. With a bloodied sword in his hands, and coin in his pocket from swiping it off the bodies, it wouldn't look good no matter what. So Corvo found his feet again, and started to inch his way towards home again...
It took Corvo a few moments before he realised where home was for him, now, as suddenly, he stood at the edge of the docks, facing south, towards the ships and docks.
... Shakingly biting his lip as he tore his wide, tired eyes from the sight, Corvo turned back into the city, to find some good route to take. He'd only been here for a year, so the city wasn't truly known to him yet, though he knew many of it's alleyways and where to linger.
And where not to be bloodied and hurt, and this place was pretty much where he should not be.
All while Corvo attempted to find his way home, Daud had already been looking. And he was getting closer, for he knew that there were more patterns entwined into this case than it first seemed.
It was around this district, close to the river and rats, that most riff raff would circle in, and where most of the coin he and Corvo was often set to hunt down had ended up. And usually, where those who were set to die ended up too. Daud knew this from his own experiences too.
The underworld of Dunwall was not a kind one, and both him and Corvo knew it. They had been cocky, still were, but by now, it had been best to be careful, due to all the attacks.
So Daud kept a low profile, hiding more than he stomped around as he usually would, despite the man really wanting to. And eventually, he, from the shadows of a building and being more hidden than he should be, heard a scream coming from the alleyways.
Sounded like a man's, nothing like Corvo, but still, he decided to investigate. He couldn't help it, as everything in him was certain that Corvo had ended up in too much trouble. He sprinted off towards the direction, and found a guard joining him to investigate, the man too busy with "helping" that he didn't even knock Daud away, which he knew was a common thing. Maybe it was the lack of a coat that had him not care today.
And what met him once the guard had passed and found his way, was a bunch of gang members, and a blood trail. Daud went after that, idly stepping back the way he came as if he didn't want to see this, to circle around, to not give the guard a hint, nor give him a chance to think about following the trail.
And he followed this, quickly as he ran across the wetter cobblestones. The rain hadn't let up at all.
Corvo had stopped to take a look behind him once he heard the scream as well, not managed to get very far in this state. He stood with a hand against the wall of a building, the brick feeling like it wanted to scratch up his hand, and leave him there, a bleeding mess.
This whole thing was a mess. This whole city was a mess.
... Sighing as he leaned himself against the wall, using his shoulder to avoid any injuries, Corvo's brain still didn't work too well, and he ended up leaning his head against the wall too. Tired, just wanting a moment of rest. Wanted to sleep, but he was at least lucid enough to know that this was a bad idea. But the urge to do it was overwhelming.
Yet, he heard some kind of steps, approaching from his side.
Managing to push himself off the wall, groaning as he did, Corvo reached for his sword at his side, hand placed on the handle, as he struggled with finding the strength to do all this.
Pat pat pat pat.
Hurried steps came closer and closer, and once the man who the steps belonged to came into view for Corvo...
Everything in the man relaxed, to the point it was almost dangerous for his balance.
And what met Corvo, Daud's face. It was an expression he'd never seen before, it had Corvo look surprised, as well as he could in the state he was in.
"... I.." Corvo uttered.
Daud walked up to him, hurriedly too, almost to the point where Corvo didn't manage to register it, and soon he was embraced, a hand on the back of his head.
Corvo's bit his lip, as he took a moment to attempt to hold around the other too, his friend. Corvo didn’t know why.
But his body failed him, and he went down, his knees giving up, Corvo only understanding it once the grip around his shoulders got tighter, and he saw Daud's face in front of him now, having stopped him from falling completely by getting an arm around Corvo's back and holding him up, all while having moved down to a sitting position.
He didn't have enough of a grip on Corvo to keep him up, so he had to let him fall, at least in a controlled one.
So now Daud was raising him up in a more comfortable position, and laid Corvo very close to him, making him lie in his arms, to the point where Corvo could rest his head on his shoulders if he wanted to. And where, he could be carried too, without much trouble.
Corvo cursed himself under his breath as he adjusted himself to be more comfortable, Daud not minding it at all, all while the man tried to form some kind of words.
Corvo smiled, his nose now lining up with his roommates jawline.
"I was attacked. Again." He muttered, his voice sounding strained. It felt wrong to say, felt wrong in so many ways.
Daud... Cradled Corvo in his arms for a moment, looking pissed off beyond any reason, but then, just.. Exhausted. Tired, and worried.
Corvo just looked tired... They fell into some sort of silence, while they both locked eyes for a moment, Corvo wanting to rest now, now that he had a moment to. He would be getting home now.
After a while, Corvo, with a pained look in his eyes, took a deep breath, his hand gripping onto Daud's shoulder, rather hard. Meaning, he had some strength in him, it was simply being saved.
"I just want to go home." Corvo said, as clear as day. Something in his voice, was very vulnerable. Very raw, with emotion and tiredness, together with a longing that Daud... Knew all too well. He’d felt it too, and Corvo knew. He saw those books from Serkonos Daud kept with him.
He could feel what Corvo felt at the moment, and knew exactly what he meant. And how raw this was, for both him and Corvo.
... All Daud could do was to lean his head down to Corvo, in order to try and make him relax, to rest. They ended up with Daud's forehead leaning against Corvo's face for a moment, not able to reach most of it, and... Without thinking all that much, he found himself kissing Corvo's forehead, just after Corvo had closed his eyes for a second, to just rest for a precious moment...
This took Corvo's attention from his pain to Daud for a moment, and with a surprised, yet knowing look on his face, he looked up to Daud, just for a moment... The grip on Daud's shoulder moved a little to hold on better, for Corvo could feel Daud wanting to get up, and go home now. See it on him too.
Leaning his head back, towards Daud's shoulder as the man got to his feet with Corvo bridal style in his arms, Corvo now hid his face in Daud's shoulder for a while, sighing very heavily. Understanding what made him get so close to this man for the first time in a long while, else from the less expensive rent that they shared.
And thus, they went home, and Daud... Even Daud found himself now suddenly looking towards the river, towards south again, after having taken a turn towards the river through alleyways, in order to avoid the guards and other people out on the streets this damned evening.
Towards home.
... He turned after a good moment of realisation, and went back to their shared apartment, near the markets.
Back into the city.
Today Corvo got the bed. Settled on it, looking to Daud getting the medical supplies needed for his wounds.
It took some few hours before Corvo could sleep after his wounds had been cleaned, and he only managed to start to drift off after arguing with Daud for him to take the bed too. Despite this not having been the rule they had agreed on at all, when they first acquired the bed. Only with Daud's weight there on the queen size bed, with his back turned to Corvo, did the man, bandaged up and with a face full of bruises, manage to sleep.
And during the night, Corvo's arm moved to Daud's back. Laid beside it, as if he was seeking some sort of reminder of home.
Daud didn't wake up from it, the man too tired, heavy, dark blue bangs under his eyes.
They were both so tired. Yet, wouldn't give up on this. They had both left Serkonos for more coin, more work, and a new start. Both of them had known each other vaguely as rivals when they left, and when they found each other heading to see the same apartment, they were both miffed, annoyed. Argued until the man showing them the apartment butted in, and told them to share, or else none of them would get it. For he wanted his money no matter what. And the two of them clearly could pay up, with such argue skills they'd get far with in their line of work.
The next morning over a cup of tea, they both agreed that all this that had happened was bullshit, and not something they'd let whoever sent those goons get away with.
And once that Corvo recovered well enough, those bastards would pay.
But for now, the two men fell into silence for the rest of the day, not speaking about yesterday.
Only occasionally catching each other's look to the other, both frowning, yet with a light expression as they did. As if, it wasn't all that bad after all.
#Dishonored#dishonored fanfiction#au#corvo attano#daud#corvo x daud#corvodaud#daudvo#knifecrow#fanfic#prompt#private detective au#enemies to friends to lovers#?
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marcus/oliver + social media for @rlversongs
LONG POST- idk how to put the keep reading from my phone sorry
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marcus flint for NBA @marcflintofficial
Are you ready for thrilling Raptors vs Bucks Eastern Conference Final game 5? Tune in on YouTube 2nite aftergame for play by play analysis + predictions. Watch for live tweets. #NBA #Basketball
12:00 PM 2,340 likes 1,226 retweets
montyyyyy @grahamcracker
yo @casswarr five dollas on raps making history. wood has been straight sniping this year. bucks have no chance with that offense. #rapsin5
12:48 PM 5 likes 3 retweets
cassius ;) @casswarr
@grahamcracker ur fuckin insane if u think its gonna be easy for the raps. diggory's been an absolute wall this szn. he'll block potter's nasty dunks easy
1:05 PM 4 likes 1 retweets
oliver wood #0 @oliverw00dofficial
Game 5. Tonight. Air Canada Arena. #WeTheNorth
4:00 PM 1,904 likes 837 retweets
marcus flint for NBA @marcflintofficial
5 into 1st quarter, Wood from the Raps with the filthy cross on Malfoy, ballhandling like a dream. #NBA #NBAGame5 #Basketball
8:43 PM 734 likes 437 retweets
pants park (marky flints cuzzy) @panzyparkkk
@marcflintofficial im sure handling his balls is your dream ;))
8:50 PM 523 likes 277 retweets
marcus flint for NBA (@marcflintofficial) blocked pants park (marky flints cuzzy) (@panzyparkkk)
marcus flint for NBA @marcflintofficial
Potter steals from Diggory, lobs it to Weasley, throws it up to Wood for a dunk on Bole. The Raptors chemistry is off the charts this game. #NBA #NBAGame5 #Basketball
9:22 PM 256 likes 153 retweets
mclaggen the frat god @nolaggingmclaggen
yo why the fuck is flint being so nice about the raps rn. i don't want wood favouritism, i miss asshole flint. talk shit about bole's shitty defense, please.
10:00 PM 333 likes 457 retweets
oliver wood #0 (@oliverw00dofficial) liked a tweet by mclaggen the frat god (@nolaggingmclaggen)
oliver wood #0 @oliverw00dofficial
Eastern Conference dubs, absolutely ecstatic. See you against the Warriors for NBA finals. #WeTheNorth
11:54 PM 937 likes 765 retweets
HARRY POTTER #3 @harrypottter
to the finalsssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!! #WeTheNorth
11:56 PM 832 likes 655 retweets
-
YouTube
NBA by Marcus Flint
1,267,457 subscribers
Recent Videos
RAPTORS VERSUS BUCKS EASTERN CONFERENCE FINALS (HIGHLIGHTS, PLAY BY PLAY, ANALYSIS)
Play
"A tremendous game for the Raptors, starting right off the bat. Bulgarian transfer Viktor Krum started it right from the tipoff, an offense immediately set into play by captain Oliver Wood. The Bucks weren't ready for them to come at them so hard so quickly, which was [redacted] stupid of them, it's the [redacted] Eastern Conference Finals. Diggory did steal from rookie Finnegan, who was lucky to have Wood track back as fast as he did for the defense. Further into the first quarter, Wood executed one of the dirtiest [redacted] crossovers I've ever seen in my two years of working in the NBA. Poor Urquhart didn't stand a chance. He's probably wallowing in the memes being made of him now, bless his heart--no, he deserves it. Urquhart, get it together, set your [redacted] feet."
"The second quarter had the Bucks catch up, with Roger Davies shooting 3 for 4 from the three point line, two assists from Bucks rookie Zach Smith, one from Draco Malfoy. The fourth one bounced off the rim into Wood's hands- his offensive rebounding stats have been crazy--
"The third quarter had Weasley on the boards, dribbling out to the corner and lobbing it to Potter on the fast break, and what a [redacted] fast break it was! If you blinked you would have missed it, which apparently Bole did, blink that is. Potter tosses it up to Wood for a nasty dunk on Bole. Humiliating. I'd never show my face to the world again, if that happened to me."
Pause.
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Rita Skeeter for TMZ @ritaskeets
Renowned basketball analyser and former NBA player Marcus Flint's cousin, Pansy Parkinson with a shocking tweet during yesterday's game 5. #marcusflint
6:00 AM 4,003 likes 2,692 retweets
Rita Skeeter for TMZ @ritaskeets
This certainly is a strange development. Through injuries, scandals and incidents, Marcus Flint has had quite a life. Learn more in my article on tmz.com/articles/ritaskeeter #marcusflint
6:08 AM 2,455 likes 1,234 retweets
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Excerpt of Marcus Flint Through the Years, by Rita Skeeter for TMZ
Marcus Caradoc Flint, Chicago born and raised and was eventually the first draft pick, going to nowhere else but the Chicago Red Bull's, and evidently changing the team dynamic forever, and for the better. Flint played rough, fouling out of a game dozens of times and racking up the most fines in the league, but it was worth it. He was still skillful, dazzling audiences with his awe striking shots and dunks. He won rookie of the year, finals MVP, and had 2 championship rings, one from his time on the Bulls, the other from his time with the Cleveland Cavaliers.
Flint was known to be a little violent on the court, some of the more notable players he got in fights with being Roger Davies, Remus Lupin and Oliver Wood, who we'll be discussing later this article.
Suddenly, injury struck, and Flint could never play basketball again, a freak accident on the court where he was pushed midair, lost his balance and tore his ACL. He was immediately offered a spot on the NBA reporting crew, where he popularised the channel with his calculated analyses and his filthy mouth. The channel ratings shot up, and the rest was history.
Flint was never out of the spotlight for long. Two years ago, he was seen walking out of the Peninsula New York with Charlie Weasley, New York Knicks, one morning, the two of them awfully close and sharing an embrace before parting ways. This led to speculation about their relationship status and Flint's sexuality. Not long after that, he was photographed leaving The Monster, a gay bar in New York, again, with an unidentified male.
Recently, Marcus Flint's cousin, Pansy Parkinson, a well known tattoo artist in Los Angeles replied to Flint's tweets.
Attached: Screenshot of Pansy Parkinson's reply to Marcus Flint,"im sure handling his balls are your dream ;)))*
Is this an indicator of something between Flint and Wood? Our reporters have reached out to all three parties involved for comment.
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mclaggen the frat god @nolaggingmclaggen
broooo that's why flint was sucking woods dick so hard during live tweet. i don't care if the man likes it up the ass i want some CORRECT analysis #marcusflint
12:00 AM 600 likes 236 retweets
cassius ;) @casswarr
wood and the raps have a presser today maybe he'll say smth about the sitch #marcusflint
12:52 PM 132 likes 121 retweets
#WeTheNorthh @torontoraptorsnumber1fan
*Attached: Clip from the Raptors Press Conference. A journalist from Sports Illustrated asks as question directed towards Oliver Wood, captain. "What are your thoughts on the online blowup regarding your status with Marcus Flint?" Oliver has a faint smile. Harry Potter is sniggering behind his hand on the other end of the table. Oliver goes to the mike. "I didn't realise there was a blowup. We gotta prepare for our next game now. See you all then." The entire team gets out and exits. The journalists clamour for their attention, with more questions.*
1:07 PM 4,082 likes 5,239 retweets
gin n tonic @ginnywheezy
y'all saw that cheeky smirk no?? @harrypottter laughing in the corner no??? my big bro @ronwheezy turning bright red NO????
1:20 PM 345 likes 233 retweets
marcus flint for NBA (@marcflintofficial), oliver wood #0 (@oliverw00dofficial), HARRY POTTER #3 (@harrypottter), Draco Malfoy (@dracoma1foy), angie johnson (@angelinaj), forge weasley (@georgewheezy), gred weasley (@fredwheezy) liked gin n tonic (@ginnywheezy)'s tweet
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Instagram
@marcusflintbae
fan account, im in love with marcus flint
Recent Posts:
*Blurry picture of two male figures, seemingly joined by the hand. One of them is brunette, the other black haired. Both tall. One is dressed in a grey tracksuit and clunky basketball shoes, the other in a pressed white shirt and black pants, tie looseness. They are smiling - the photo is too blurry to specify exactly who it is.
marcusflintbae this is obviously marcus flint and oliver wood, that's the tea. im so jealous of wood ugh.
Posted 1 hour ago
Liked by ginnywheeze, percyweasley, panspark, terhiggs, adrianpuc3y, k8iebell, hazzapotter, fredwheeze and 2943 others
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Private Chat between Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint
oliver wood: marcus ur an idiot
marcus flint: how is this my fault
oliver wood: u were too nice to me on highlight analysis
oliver wood: and u forgot to tell parkinson that we're not public yet
marcus flint: well u should be happy u wanted to go public like six months ago
oliver wood: nOT LIKE THIS
oliver wood: let's announce it on twitter we've let them suffer long enough
marcus flint: don't use the photo that im wearing the purple tie in
marcus flint: it's ugly
oliver wood: you are in no position to be making demands
oliver wood: im not going to use a photo, i love you, I'll call you later
marcus flint: love u too babe
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marcus flint for NBA @marcflintofficial
I'm dating Oliver Wood. I'm not biased to the raptors at all, don't tell him but I actually bet on the Warriors. #NBAFinals
9:03 PM 608,767 likes 438,898 retweets
oliver wood #0 @oliverw00dofficial
Marcus Flint and I have BEEN dating. Keep up. He fr didn't bet on us. If you stop watching him I'll request a trade. Joking. Not really. #NBAFinals
9:06 PM 453,738 likes 234,725 retweets
#hp#text#flintwood#harry potter#oliver wood#flintwoodnet#hprarepairnet#marcus flint#flintwood fic#slytherdornet#slytherin#hprarepair#my writing#writing#slytherdor#ao3feed#flintwood squad#ez tag#fic#hpnet#marcus flint x oliver wood#oliivverwood#flintwoodfic#hpfic#SADIE + REQUESTS#Long post
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You Feel Like Home |2/2
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Description: You’re a therapist with a tragic past and Bucky’s your new bedmate. You try to deny your feelings for him but he keeps working himself into your heart...and your bed. Will you fall for his charms or keep him at bay?
Warnings: SMUT. A lot of it. And some fluff.
Words: 3.8k
A/N: As promised, here is part 2 :) Apologies for any spelling mistakes, I was up trying to finish this because it’s been on my notes for a few weeks and I just wanted to publish it. Also, I didn’t proofread cause I’m just really lazy and don’t have time but....enjoy!!
MASTERLIST
12 hours later
You sighed as you popped your earphones in to block out any thoughts, flicking through your files in concentration. This worked until The Black Keys’ ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ came up.
You and Bucky had danced to this one night.
***
It was really, really late and Bucky had dragged you outside of one of Tony's parties. You were walking along the sea close to the compound, Tony's music still in the distance. His hand was in yours - wind blowing your hair, dress skimming your bare legs as your shoes dangled from his hands. You were looking at the ocean and he was looking at you.
"You're beautiful," he said and your eyes snapped to him.
You gave him a small, tender smile "You're drunk." It's true.
He was. He had drunk Thor's liquor at Tony's party earlier - his blue eyes glazy and more animated than usual.
He pulled you to him, spinning you around as he wrapped both hands around your waist and you squealed in delight.
"l am drunk," he admitted, one of his hands caressed your face - his thumb resting on your lips as he outlined them like they were the most intricate thing in the world.
"And tomorrow, I'll be sober and you'll still be beautiful" he murmured and your heart flipped.
When you didn't say anything, his lips stretched out into a beautiful, dazzling smile.
"Dance with me." He said, pulling you close.
Your lips curved "You hate dancing."
"Not if it's with you."
And then you danced together like a bunch of idiots. He spun you around, dipped you, pressed you into his body, kissed you. The moment was pure and absolute bliss as your laughter filled the air.
***
Sitting there like you did all the time, alone, late at night as your office filled with moonlight and the beautiful New York lights, that beautiful song filled with wistfulness singing words you never really listened to - your tears began to flow unchecked. God damn you for putting that stupid, stupid song on the playlist.
You’d seen Bucky Barnes merely hours ago, he was there - willing and wanting yet you kept him out of reach. All because you couldn’t move on. All because you felt like he would hate you for it. But would he really? He was the love of your life once, yes. Part of you knew he’d want you to be happy, even if we’re without him but you just couldn’t, your heart tore itself apart every time you tried. Bucky was just plain out of reach. Not because he chose to be so...but because you made him be so.
When the song was done, you played it again.
And again.
Then again.
Then, tears in your eyes, you got up - put your shoes on and walked out of your office. You replayed it as you walked out of the building, heels inaudibly clicking as the song replayed in your ears over and over again. It was cold outside but, it didn’t matter. You weren’t sure how far you walked, it was aimless and careless but that didn’t matter to you either.
The music was still playing when a firm hand wrapped around your bicep, making you squeal as that hand didn’t hesitate to whip you around.
Then you stared up at Bucky Barnes’ angry face.
You blinked up at him twice before you realised his lips were moving - was he talking?
“What?” you asked, talking very loudly over music he couldn’t hear.
His head jerked as his eyes narrowed on your earphones. You felt his hand leave your arm and then suddenly the song was gone because he promptly removed your earphones from your head.
Then you heard him growl, “Jesus Christ,”
You frowned at him, confused. “What?”
“You’re walking alone, in the dark, in New York. A city full of gangs and drunk men and you’re doing it with earphones in and music so loud you couldn’t hear someone approaching even if he was wearing a damn cowbell,”
You blinked, confusion still etched in your features “I’ve lived in New York all my life,” you mumbled, “people are friendly.”
“No doll, they’re not,”
“But-,”
“Sweetheart, there’s a murder in New York every other day. Something happens to you, Steve’ll have a fit. So will Tony. So do us a favour and don’t walk around at night alone yeah?” He pointed at your earphones. “Especially with these in,”
You swallowed because he was incredibly close right now. God, even the way he smells is fucking incredible - like mint, musk and just pure man. It’s intoxicating. “Okay...” you said distractedly.
Suddenly your hand was caught in a strong firm grip and he tugged while he stated: “I’m walking you back.”
Since his hand was tugging and his body was tall, lean and muscular you had no choice but to follow him but you did protest as your feet moved unusually fast to keep up with his strides “Uh-no, that’s okay. Really. I can get back by myself and I won’t listen to music,” he stopped abruptly and you frowned up at him “How’d you even find me here?”
“Absolutely not. I'm walking you back, end of story.” he said, ignoring your question.
“Sergeant Barnes this is-“
“Bucky.” he clipped.
You huffed “I don’t need-”
“We live in the same building just-“
“But I-“ you started but stopped yourself because now his eyes were angry and his handsome face was an inch from yours.
“I’m...walking...you...home,” he said low, slow, each word deliberate. You did the only thing you could do. You nodded.
His face started to move back then his eyes narrowed again and, to the further detriment of your ability to breathe, it got even closer. His eyes moved over your features then they came back to your eyes.
“You been crying?” he asked, his voice low but now soft. You stared up at him.
“No.” you lied.
Then Bucky did that damned soft voice that made you melt.
“Sugar, I’ve got eyes.”
Nope! You were not falling for his man charms. Not today - you pulled in a breath and straightened your shoulder. “Sergeant Barnes-“
“Bucky,” he whispered this time.
“Okay then, Bucky. I have been crying. But it’s none of your business. I’m your therapist, it’s my job to talk about your stuff with you, there are no two ways about it.
His eyes searched your face and to your surprise, he dropped the subject. He muttered something under his breath and moved away, yanking your hand as you both began to walk again.
You looked up at his handsome face - wanted to ask what on Earth he was doing out at this time of night. Was he following you? Was he getting back from seeing someone? Your chest filled with hot jealousy at the thought of that but you pushed it down. This was not the time for irrationality. You also wanted to ask him to let go of your hand but you didn’t do that either. You just walked by his side, with your hand firmly in his strong big one as he drew gentle circles on your skin. You noticed his eyes scanning the surroundings, most likely looking out for any imminent signs of danger - typical PTSD symptom. Steve did that too and your lips hitched up in a small smile. Steve and Bucky were so different yet so alike. Their friendship was totally heartwarming and you always noticed Bucky’s softness around him. As if a wall was let down to allow his former self to shine through and damn if he wasn’t just heart-wrenchingly lovely. Steve was like that too, he always hid behind his Captain America front but, with Bucky, you always saw that shy Brooklyn kid.
Bucky stopped abruptly, cutting off your thoughts. You had little time to realise you were at your door before Bucky’s hand wrapped around your bicep. When the hell did we get in here? You asked yourself.
You looked up at him and he was staring at you with this incredible intensity. His eyes dropped to your mouth, it seemed strange that his body went still then his eyes came back to yours and he asked instantly, “Why were you crying?”
You took a step back, murmuring, “Bucky –”
“Why were you crying?” he repeated.
He took another step towards you, closing the distance between you “I don’t think –”
His hand curled around your bicep to stop you from moving. This time you had no choice but to look up at him, “Why were you crying doll?” this time softly.
Your eyes dropped to his lips, big and round and suddenly you yanked your arm away from him. “Jesus Christ Bucky!” You said in exasperation. He had no right to question you yet you found your mouth spilling out words too quick to stop.
“You know damn well what made me cry. One moment I was in my office, looking through my files, the next my mind fills with stupid, idiotic you,” his eyes turn soft at that but you ignore it.
“And I feel guilty, I feel so fucking guilty because I miss him, I loved him with my whole heart and soul and then he just died. We never broke up, we were gonna spend our whole lives together, Bucky. We were gonna have a kid...granted that kid came back in time to try to murder me but still!” you turned away from him now, swallowing down tears because the last thing you wanted was to cry in front of him.
“I got home a week later from Jane’s house to pack his things and I found a wedding ring. That killed me,” your voice dropped to a whisper now: “What would he think of me moving on? I just I-I can’t-“ you stopped yourself and looked up at him now tears in your eyes and vulnerability across your features.
“I had this full life, and it was taken away from me.”
He was looking at you in pity and you hated it. Hated looking weak, even if that is what you are. Suddenly he moved and you were enveloped in his body. His warmth would seep into your being and he comforted you without even opening his mouth. You wanted to fight against it but instead, you found your body melting into him like ice-cream on a warm porcelain bowl, like you belonged next to him, like he belonged next to you.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured “I’m sorry about what happened to you - it’s messed up. But, what I do know is that he’d want you to be happy. Shit, if I were that guy I know I’d want nothing more than to see you happy,” he pulled your head away from his chest and looked down at you softly, hands on either side of your face, “with or without me,”
“I’m home safe now, Buck. You can leave.”
He stepped closer to you and before you could do anything his hand slithered across your waist, pulling you close; your breast now squished against him and hands laying flat on his chest.
You swallowed and said nothing - mostly because the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. His eyes were dark now, endless arctic pools looking at you with intent. His head bent down and his lips were mere inches from yours but he didn’t move. Your heart started beating faster and your hands involuntarily scrunched the shirt at his chest as if to tell him to do something.
“Tell me to leave again.” He finally mutters, breath hot against your lips. You wanted to say it, you really did but instead, your eyes dropped to his lips and he smelled like mint again. It was intoxicating and you really, really wanted to taste it.
You bit your lip and he growled, hands squeezing your waist “Gonna need words doll.”
Your gaze flickered back up to his and, there must’ve been something there cause next thing you know he pushes you up against the wall, reaching down to hook your leg around his waist. Your hands automatically fly up to his neck to steady yourself and you can feel how hard he is through his pants - your breath hitches - a whimper leaving your lips as you feel wetness pooling at your core.
“Words.” He growls and it’s menacing.
“Please.” You say, so quietly you can barely hear yourself but that was all he needed.
Without missing a beat, his lips lowered and caught yours hungrily as he pushed his body deeper into yours. You respond eagerly as your hands travel to his hair, pulling at the stands. His tongue darts out to trace your lower lip as if to ask for permission and you part your lips in invitation, letting out a moan so incredibly sinful that he rewards you by tearing himself from your mouth and placing a trail of hot wet kisses down your neck and on your breasts.
He lifts you suddenly and you let out a squeak of surprise, legs wrapping around his waist as he kicks the door open to your apartment. Fuck, were we doing that outside the whole time? You thought to yourself but he was quick to erase your surprise - mouth on you again as his long strides take you to your bedroom in no time.
He breaks the kiss - breathless and hot as he sits you both down on the bed. You were straddling him now and you could feel how hard he was and fuck, if it weren’t for the barrier between your clothes right now, you were sure he’d be able to feel your wetness seeping through.
You looked down at him and he had that face - that fucking fantastic face he always had before he fucked you raw. You almost whimpered again.
He pushes you off his lap - you’re standing before him now and he presses a kiss on your stomach before he lays back on the bed. Hand waving lazily at you.
“Undress.” He demands and you shiver as you remove every piece of your clothing deliberately slow - his eyes never leaving your body. His breath hitches when you snap off your bra and let it fall to the floor, jaw ticking in what you could only guess was restraint. Your nipples are hard, both from the cold and from his touch. You were about to remove your panties when he growled “No. Leave those on.”
He pulled you close, mouth tracing the hem of your panties - his fingers giving you nothing but a whisper of a touch up your thighs before they pressed against your pussy and he let out a hum low in his throat, feeling the wetness against the material. “All wet for me,” he whispers, breath hot and you shiver - a whimper leaving your lips. He looks up at you and his hands tragically leave your body as he leans back on the bed, trapping you between his thighs “Want you on your knees sugar.” He says and before your mind can even think you sink down and your hands readily unbuckle his belt, yank down his fly and allow his cock spring free.
Your mouth waters. Bucky was hung. His cock was fucking perfection. Hard, thick and long, the veins distended in a way that demanded the trace of a tip of a tongue. So big. So swollen. So beautiful.
You had to have it and you didn’t delay. Wrapping your hand around it, putting your lips to the tip then taking him so deep, you felt him in the back of your throat - your gag reflex totally gone.
“Fucking hell,” he rumbled, sliding the fingers of both hands into your hair and curling them around your scalp.
You slid him out but didn’t take him back in. He lifted his hips and surged back in. You took his thrusts, whimpering and moaning against his cock, your body trembling, your clit throbbing and suddenly you felt him knife up. His hands went under your arms and he hauled you up his body.
“Baby, I wasn’t—” you started to protest.
But he rolled you to your back, dragged your panties down your legs and moved around so he was on all fours over you. He showered your neck, your breasts, your stomach in hot wet kisses until he was nestled between your thighs.
He looked up at you, blue eyes filled with lust as he shoots you a wolfish grin and holy shit Then his mouth was there. Right there. He ravaged your sex and you were done. I were there. You exploded, moaning so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building heard you.
Your hips jerked against his mouth and he growled. Still coming, he pulled out and you found yourself yanked further in the bed. Then he was covering you. One of his arms hooked behind your knee, jerking it up. His hips fell between yours, and you felt him hitch a knee high for leverage. Your hands circled his shoulders nails digging into his back as a soft plea.
Through this, all you could see were his extraordinary blue eyes burning into yours.
He was there. Right there. You could feel him. But he wasn’t giving himself to you. Instead, he was staring at you like he was waiting for the answer to a question.
“Say you’re mine.” He whispers, eyes searching your face.
“Bucky...”
“Say it doll.”
You wiggle your hips against him and he grunts “Please” you whisper.
“Say you’re mine.” He runs the tip of his cock along your slit and you moan breathlessly.
“Bucky baby-“
His hand wraps around your throat this time - possessive yet gentle. “Say it baby doll. You already know you are.”
He slides the tip in now, teasing you with his head as he drives in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace.
“I’m yours” you whimper he drives inside, hand around your neck tightening as he swallows your moans through kisses. Your neck arches back and your nails drag down his back. You wouldn’t be surprised if you drew blood.
He buried his face in your neck and groaned, “Jesus fuck.”
Then he thrust, and thrust, and thrust, deep, hard, fast, rough, God, so hard, so freaking deep and so amazingly rough.
His mouth came to yours and you breathed, “Don’t come too fast. I’m not close to done.”
“Not planning on leaving this room, sugar.”
Excellent.
You felt your mouth smile then he was kissing you, as hard, deep and rough as he was fucking you. It was brilliant. So brilliant, you slid over the edge again and cried out when your latest orgasm shook me, the noise driving down his throat.
Moments later, he grunted his release down yours.
Hazy, still turned on, coming down, and even doing that, it building back up, Bucky pulled out. He gently rolled you to your back and covered your again, instantly sliding back inside and thrusting slowly, his eyes holding yours, his lips a breath away.
“More?” he whispered.
“You up for it?” you whispered back.
You felt his lips touch yours and they were smiling, as were his eyes. And in all the fabulous you’d just shared, that might have been the best part.
“Absolutely,” he murmured.
“Then yes,” you breathed and wrapped your legs around his hips. “More.” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “Please.” And I slid your tongue along his lips,
He slanted his head, those lips took yours, his tongue took yours and he gave you more. All night long.
***
You lie back, totally, completely worn out. Bucky’s lying beside you, eyes closed, profile so perfect you itch to reach over and trace his features with your fingertips.
A weird feeling hits your chest - raw, innocent and intense. So incredibly overwhelming it makes your lips part. You love him. A part of you knew you did, knew you would, right from the beginning. Right from the second he said hello to you and smiled that wicked smile. Right from the moment he wrapped his arms around you, your eyes spilling tears, and told you everything would be okay. And you knew it would - because he said so, because he promised he’d be right there to make sure of it. He’s loved you this whole time. You knew it, everyone knew it. You just chose to ignore it. He never verbalised it either, then again you didn’t blame him.
His love is so whole, your missing pieces appear. Because his touch carries such passion, what was scarred becomes soft once more. Because he is steady and patient, your open wounds have time to seal and vanish. Perhaps that is why they say love is such magic, this gift from the universe, this sweet addiction to the man you were born to find. For with your twin soul, the only other born in the same flame as you, are able to bathe one other in warmth and light as easily as you both breathe, immune and oblivious to darkness.
Suddenly, you felt his hand shove under you and you were hauled to his side. His arm curled you close, pressed tight down his side and you had no choice but to rest your cheek on his shoulder and snake your arm across his abs.
“You’re staring” he mumbled into your hair and a small smile crept onto your face. Of course he knew. Even asleep he was bloody alert.
“I’m gazing”
“It’s creepy”
“It’s romantic”
You looked up at him and his eyes were closed over. “So you’re a cuddler?” you whispered.
“No,” he replied.
You at the shadowed planes and angles of his chest. “Uh…”
“Or I wasn’t until about two seconds ago.”
Your belly melted and your heart flipped. “You move away from me, doll, you’ll be right back where you are right now,” he warned, his voice quiet, rumbling with sleep.
“Okay,” you whispered.
“You stay close,” he ordered.
“Okay, baby.”
“Okay,” he muttered and his arm around you got tighter.
You stared at his chest.
Then I called, “Bucky?”
“Yeah?”
You licked your lips. Then you said quietly, “I like having you here.”
He said nothing. Then he hauled you up his body, blue eyes looking into yours. They were shining with determination as he whispered, “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” you said quietly and no two words ever felt more right.
Then he kissed you and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that the world would never be.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader angst#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky x reader#bucky imagine#bucky barnes#winter solider imagine#winter solider x reader#mcu fanfiction
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Writing’s On the Wall
A little something inspired by THIS pic that @jeldenil shared on the Drarry Discord Server - hilarious lines contributed by her and @hogwartsfemme 🙌
Betaed by the lovely @malenkayacherepakha and cheered by the sweet @drarryruinedme7 ❤️
Drarry | 2586 words | Harry POV, Auror cadets Harry & Draco, graffiti, gratuitous use of the ‘just out the shower’ image
Summary: In which the Auror department is surprisingly artistic, Draco is still an overdramatic shit, Harry still makes the most of any trouble that finds him, and getting horizontal is the solution to everyone's problems.
Also available on AO3
The first time Harry ever noticed graffiti that referenced him had been in the Quidditch locker rooms at Hogwarts. He had been pretty sure it was Draco or one of his cronies that had slipped into the Gryffindor area and spelled miniature Dementors to appear whenever someone walked past the blank game-play board. Oliver Wood had cursed and spluttered when he realised they had erased his intricate diagrams and game-plans, fiercely complaining to McGonagall.
Some of the highlights while he was at Hogwarts had been during the Triwizard Tournament - there had suddenly been loads of graffiti about him. None of it complimentary until he’d completed the first challenge, admittedly. “POTTER STINKS” had flashed across every toilet door in the castle in a lurid, flashing green for three weeks before Filch managed to convince Professor Flitwick to help him remove the charms.
Then a tiny doodle of him and a dragon appeared in an alcove on the way to the History of Magic classroom. Complete with glowing dragon flames it showed Harry and the Horntail flying a wild and cartoonish circuit around a sketchy Hogwarts, their endless chase looping every minute or so. It was probably Dean’s handiwork, the lines confident and skillful even though it was charmed onto rough stone walls - and his practice with art charms had come a long way since his first Quidditch banner. Within a week it had been scratched through though, a proud ‘CEDRIC’S THE BEST’ scrawled over it.
After the war, he saw it more regularly. The mark of the Deathly Hallows spelled onto walls, scratched into bar tables. Sometimes a cheeky ‘If HP sees this and wants a good time, Floo me!’ with addresses charmed underneath. It made trips to pub bathrooms, usually home of the more lurid examples of graffiti, an embarrassing trial sometimes - his friends always welcomed ammunition for their endless teasing.
Thankfully, he wasn't the only one targeted by renegade artists and overzealous fans. Ron had flushed beetroot red (clashing horribly with his hair) for a full half hour after seeing a particularly explicit suggestion about himself scrawled in muggle pen across the wall in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had cackled all the way back to their tabled and regaled Hermione, Neville, Seamus, and Dean with the details while Ron hid behind his pint.
He was pleased when he joined the Auror Cadets and nobody seemed to be star-struck. Their tutors were strict but fair. Even Draco Malfoy wasn’t up to his old schoolboy tricks. It appeared that his attitude had matured just as well as the rest of him.
On too many occasions to count Harry caught himself appreciating just how well Draco filled out his cadet uniform, especially the clinging material of their work-out gear which left less to the imagination than he thought he should be subjected to at work...while still desperately wanting to see more.
The only issue Harry had with his cohort of fellow cadets, and even some of the wider Auror staff, was the giggling. He knew it wasn't to do with his ‘man who lived twice’ reputation because they’d made a point of pairing him with an Auror in his sixties for sparring classes during his first month of training. He’d had his arse absolutely handed to him during class after class for four solid weeks, and that had quelled any potential hero worship before it could start.
No. This was the kind of giggling that made you think people were talking about you. He walked into the break room and was immediately on edge as three fellow cadets started sniggering into their tea cups, going silent as soon as he turned around and made eye contact. And it happened when Draco joined sessions too. Not to mention the sly looks and excited mutterings that broke out whenever he and Draco were paired together in classes or for fieldwork.
It was driving Harry mad. That morning in duelling practice he had been partnered with Draco to fight against another pair of cadets, learning how to effectively work offensive and defensive spells while working in a pair - just like they would once they were full Aurors. He had been surprised earlier in the year at how well he and Draco worked together when fighting, but on reflection realised they knew each other’s duelling style so well from attacking each other that it sort of made sense.
Thankfully it was Friday, and the day was done. He and Draco had been on clear-up duty, packing away the cushioned mats and returning the sparring room back to its blank slate, ready for the first class on Monday. So it was just the two of them in the changing rooms, showering before heading home.
Ordinarily Harry would have just skipped out and headed home for a shower in the comfort of his own place, but he’d promised to meet his friends at the Leaky and only had half an hour before he was due to get the first round in.
With just him and Draco in the shower rooms it was actually peaceful, no sounds but the rush of water, no laughing cadets making Harry feel like he must have something on his face. Other than the obvious of course.
Just as he was drying off, thoughts of beer and a big basket of chips filling his mind, Harry’s peace was rudely interrupted.
“POTTER!” Draco barked. “ Explain yourself!”
Harry hurried to wrap his towel around his waist, and padded out to the main changing area to see what he was being accused of. Even the sight of Draco, his own towel riding low on slim hips, his hair still dripping water onto his surprisingly broad chest, didn't distract Harry from the sheer horror induced by the entire wall of graffiti he found.
There was the usual house pride slogans, the Hufflepuffs perhaps not so surprisingly prolific taggers given their famous loyalty. There was even a Deathly Hallows icon - a remnant from those first months post-war when Harry saw them everywhere. Some clever bugger had even charmed a big marker quill to stick to the wall - so anyone wanting to add their own touch to the wall wouldn't find themselves without a writing implement.
But the pièce de résistance was the two feet tall portrait someone had drawn of him and Draco together. As in. Carnally. It didn’t have quite the artistic flair of Dean’s magical moving paintings, but mini-Harry and mini-Draco didn’t seem to let that hold them back - both of them looking over their shoulders with surprised expressions while they continued rocking and thrusting together. With gusto.
Harry felt a hot flush creeping up his neck, and it was only half from embarrassment. His fellow cadets’ laughter and meaningful glances between him and Draco suddenly made sense. Clearly the whole bloody lot of them were in on it - given the number of different handwriting styles decorating the wall.
Draco was similarly pink, points of colour high on his cheekbones giving away his emotional state - just like when he got angry at school. If Harry wasn't sure Draco was about to launch into a full blown rant he might even have taken a moment to admire the way his rage made his eyes so bright. But an angry Draco was a long-winded Draco, and the pub was calling Harry.
“Clearly I didn’t bloody do this, Malfoy.” He gestured at the layers of writing and doodles. “This is the whole fucking team at it. Look! I’m not a Hufflepuff am I?!”
A scoff was his only response. Then Draco pointed out the ‘I need HP like a grindylow needs water’ tag, and raised one pointed eyebrow meaningfully at Harry.
“I think this smacks of your usual ego actually, even if you did seem to have gotten over that recently. And look - isn’t that your abysmal handwriting?!”
Harry peered at the word Draco was pointing at.
“What the fuck is ‘drarry’ though? I definitely didn’t write that. I don’t even know that spell.”
Draco rolled his eyes so hard Harry was surprised they didn’t fall out of his head. So overdramatic.
“It’s clearly a fucking portmanteau, Potter, you absolute idiot. Anyway. Aren’t we ignoring the elephant in the room here? They’ve drawn us fucking for Merlin’s sake - in our place of work! ”
Draco was working himself up to high dudgeon now, and Harry couldn’t exactly blame him. It was inappropriate. But it was also pretty funny. And frankly, from his perspective, he couldn’t blame the rest of their class for getting a bit carried away. He knew he must have contributed to whatever idea they had of the two of them together, with the way his eyes lingered on Draco’s arse so regularly. Even so, they should probably talk to the head of the Cadet teaching team, get this all sorted out before it spilled into a more public forum.
But winding Draco up had been one of Harry’s specialty subjects up to this point in his life, and far more fun than resisting Imperio or defeating Dark Lords, so he decided to indulge himself. Even if he ended up late for pub night. Or with a black eye.
“You’re right, you know. This is wrong.” He paused for a moment, taking in Draco’s approving nod before gleefully marching on to turn it into a thunderous glare. “Who said you get to top?”
A strangled noise escaped Draco’s open mouth, his brows twisted with frustration. Harry tried to keep his soaring satisfaction hidden, loving the play of emotions over Draco’s usually calm face. There was just something about seeing him get all flustered that made Harry feel the same way he did when he reached out to grab the snitch. Elated.
“ That’s what you take issue with?”
He was even gesturing with his hands now. Elegant fingers pointed angrily at their twins on the wall - still merrily copulating - while the other hand gripped the knot holding his towel up. Harry couldn’t help but drop his gaze for a moment, imagining what he might see if he annoyed Draco enough for him to let go of that towel for a moment.
Ever the hopeful Gryffindor, Harry leant forward and grabbed the marker quill. He grinned at Draco before drawing a big arrow pointing at their doodled likenesses, then wrote in bold letters ‘OK BUT HARRY TOPS’. He drew back and watched as Draco read his addition to the wall, waiting for the inevitable bomb to go off. This was better than sparring.
“There. I fixed it.”
But instead of an explosion of the poshest invective he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing - Draco’s command of archaic swear words was genuinely one of the highlights of their working together - Harry watched as Draco fell silent. His eyes were wide as he stared at what Harry had written, the spots of pink high on his cheekbones blooming into a flush that travelled down his neck and even onto his chest.
And now Harry was looking at his nipples. Fuck.
When he managed to drag his treacherous eyes away from those pert, pink, perfectly lickable buds he found Draco’s sharp gaze trained fully on his face. This didn’t bode well.
“You...fixed it? ‘Okay but Harry tops’ is you fixing it? That was the only part of this whole thing-” he gestured wildly at the wall. “That’s the only bit you have an issue with? Not the whole. Drarry thing. Seriously?”
He actually sounded almost plaintive. Harry suddenly regretted taking the piss, even if he hadn’t exactly lied at any point in this little melodrama.
“Um. Well. Obviously we should talk to Auror Lessing about it, it’s not fair that they’re doing this just to us. But. Well. I’m not offended people might think of us together I guess?” He shrugged his shoulders and nodded at their graffiti counterparts. “They look like they’re enjoying it anyway!”
Draco’s eyes narrowed as he watched Harry huff a nervous laugh. He advanced one step toward Harry, and Harry couldn’t help but notice the way his body still glittered with droplets of water from his shower. Couldn’t help thinking about what a pleasant way to spend some time it would be to lick each one of them. He hauled his thoughts back from that treacherous direction; his towel didn’t hide much and it definitely wouldn’t hide a very work-inappropriate stiffy.
“They do look like they’re having fun, don’t they.” Draco murmured.
Harry swallowed hard at the deep timbre of his voice.
“ That Harry doesn’t seem to be too disappointed to be on the receiving end. Shame it’s not an accurate reflection of reality.”
All thoughts of propriety flew out of Harry’s mind at that. Draco sodding Malfoy was flirting with him. Undeniably. Could a bit of embarrassing graffiti really be the thing that pushed them beyond the weird tension they’d had since eighth year?
“Well. Um.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just the assumption really. Probably because I’m shorter than you. But I’m pretty, um, versatile. And, ah, height difference doesn’t matter much in bed, I find.”
For the span of a heartbeat Harry feared he’d misread the situation, overstepped the mark. But then a wicked grin grew on Draco’s face and he knew he’d hit just the right spot. He stepped closer still, making Harry tilt his head up slightly to maintain their eye contact.
The small space between them filled with heat, and Harry felt like if he breathed in deeply enough their chests might even touch. He wondered if Draco was still holding his towel so tightly, but didn’t dare look down, didn’t want to break this moment stretching between them.
“I agree Potter. Very unfair of them to pigeon-hole you. They should know better by now.” He raised an eyebrow, challenge in every line of his face. “I was thinking of skipping pub night this evening in favour of a hot bath and a curry. But, as you’re feeling so versatile I’m happy to be flexible too. How about I join you and the rest of the motley crew for the obligatory Friday night pint, and then you join me for food?”
Harry felt his mouth drop open, shocked Draco had been the one of them to finally come out and say it so boldly. Draco just leaned closer still, his breath hot against Harry’s ear as he whispered, sending a corresponding shiver of excitement down his spine.
“I reckon we can test out your height difference theory, I’m sure my sofa would do the trick too - if you want to demonstrate for me?”
The image that conjured in Harry’s mind was enough to make him snap his mouth shut and stifle a groan of desire. He reached out to finally touch Draco, and closed the tiny distance between them to kiss him fully on the mouth. A broad palm at his waist, gripping tightly, pulled a gasp out of him. He dragged himself away from Draco’s mouth with difficulty, already panting slightly.
“Fuck pub night, get dressed. Last one to the apparition point is paying for the curry.”
With that Harry dashed across the room to pull his trousers on, grinning as he watched Draco wrangle his own on over still damp legs. He couldn’t wait to see what this mutual competitive spirit would create outside of the quidditch pitch or duelling ring, but he was sure it would be absolutely worth the tongue-lashing he’d get from Ron for ditching the sacred Friday night drinks for Draco.
Tagging @tedahfromtayla @maesterchill @tomoewantsdolls
#drarry#draco/harry#draco x harry#drarry fic rec#drarry squad#things to read#isobel writes#my fic#mine#auror!harry#auror!draco#kinda-sorta#graffiti
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I’ll Dance and I’ll Dream (Okoye X Fem!Reader)
Author: Crystalline / @butcanijustnot
Fandom: Marvel x reader, Black Panther x reader.
Tagging: @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 Have some garbage I briefly showed you on Snapchat.
Summary: Okoye needs to learn how to dance, and trust someone again. You’re willing to teach both.
Word Count: 1660, roughly.
Warnings: Gay AF.
Also again I don’t speak Xhosa so I used a translator for the Xhosa parts. If you read it and it’s wrong, please let me know so I can change it.
“Y/N!” Okoye yelled, storming into the training area. “Where are you?” She sounded slightly agitated, a far cry from her usually collected dementor. Instantly, you stopped your training and racked your brain to think of what you could have done to upset her. Nothing came to mind. You were innocent until she proved you guilty.
“Over here.” You yelled, emerging from behind a punching bag as you spun the wraps off of your hands and threw them in the vague direction of your bag. You noticed her expression wasn’t angry, but instead registering an emotion you’d never seen her wear before. Part of you felt reassured, but the rest of you was concerned. “Are you alright?” You asked, moving towards her.
Okoye was good at putting up walls and guarding her thoughts and emotions. She had to be in her line of work, and it only got harder after her marriage to W’Kabi met an unfortunate end. She was left feeling like her entire life was made up of walls too high for anyone to see over, much less scale. Eventually she stopped trying to connect with anyone at all.
Then you came along, with your sweet smile and nimble feet. You took her walls, tall and fearsome as mountains and hopped them like they were nothing, and emerged on the other side unscathed. Every tactic Okoye had to scare people off rolled right past you, and almost against her will, Okoye began to feel for you.
You were by every count Okoye’s opposite, not at all the woman she would usually fall for. You could be reckless and brash. Your self-preservation skills rivalled Shuri herself, which is to say, severely lacking. Your fighting style was crazy and over the top compared to her refined techniques, compensating for your height by seemingly confusing your enemies and then beating them into the dirt. Okoye found it strange but couldn’t deny its effectiveness. You were kind but crazy, interesting to talk to but tended to be off in your own world most of the time. You were a ball of crazy contradictory material.
So why couldn’t Okoye get you out of her head?
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just…” Her eyes flickered away from you as you got closer, before resettling. “I’m heading out on a mission tomorrow and I need to ask you a favour.” She explained, and you realised that this emotion was indignity. She needed your help. You placed your hand on her arm to reassure her, and Okoye almost felt herself lean into the touch.
You nodded. “Of course, Okoye, anything you need.”
Okoye was quiet for a minute. “I need to learn how to dance.” She finally spat out.
Your brain took a second to process the request, and then you were certain you had misheard her. “Dance?” You repeated. Okoye was so beautiful and gloriously refined that you just assumed she would know how to do all that fancy stuff. Was that why she was so worried about asking?
“Specifically Waltzing, I never learned. I know they teach War-dogs those sorts of things, so I thought perhaps you could show me how.” She explained.
“I mean of course I can, but why are you asking me? That sounds like the kind of thing Nakia would be really good at.” You asked her, thinking back to your time at the War Dog training program. Nakia had topped every single class and somehow made it look effortless, something you definitely weren’t still bitter about years later.
“I asked, but she’s busy with royal duties.” Okoye lied. She didn’t even think about asking Nakia. She wanted to learn from you.
“What about Princess Shuri?” You prompted further.
“She tried to teach me how to breakdance. Not what I am looking for.”
You snorted, the mental image of Okoye breakdancing forever imprinted in your brain now. No doubt she’d be fantastic at it. “Well in that case, I’d be honoured to dance with you. We can do it over here on the mats.” You said with a smile, gesturing to the wrestling area as you walked.
“Thank you.” She whispered, following you over onto the padded floors.
You were quiet for a second as you thought of the best was to show Okoye. You’d never taught anyone to dance before, but the most effective way to teach someone in a night would be a dance with them, a thought that wasn’t unwelcome to you. You’d take any chance to be close with the general.
“Okay, the first step is put down the spear.” You said, giggling to yourself as Okoye looked at it in her hand apprehensively. “You can put it over there with my things, so it’s still close enough for comfort.” You paused, walking to the centre of the mats. “Why do you need to learn to dance? I know it’s for a mission, but what sort of mission would require that?”
“You are the Wardog in the room. Surely you’ve had missions of your own that required you to dance.” Okoye said, subtly avoiding the question as she laid her weapon down and made her way back towards you.
“Pole dancing, yes. Waltzing, not so much.” You lamented, missing the slight blush that crept up onto Okoye’s cheeks and the way she swallowed awkwardly when you said that. “It’s a ye olde skill and not many people use it, which brings me back to my original question.”
Okoye sighed as you took her hands and moved her so that you two were parallel, facing towards each other. “T’Challa and I have to go to a fancy gala run by a vibranium dealer. I need to snare a dance with him so that I can attach a tracking device to the back of his collar, but if I can’t dance a full song with him, it’ll tip him off that I don’t belong there, so best that I learn how.”
“I see.” You hummed, thinking. “So, I should lead, then.” She nodded, and you continued. “Take your right hand in my left, and put your left arm around my shoulders. The leader, that’s me, puts their arm around your back, on your lower waist. It’s a very close dance.” In position, your bodies were pressed together and you could practically feel her pulse, much faster than you would have expected it to be. “Are you alright with this?” You asked.
“Yes, this is fine.”
“Good. Let me know if that changes, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Now, you put your feet here and here.” You explained, showing her with your own feet.
She narrowed her eyes at the ground as she got into the correct position. “What if I stand on your foot?” She whispered softly.
“Oh, I’ll have a personal vendetta against you for the rest of our lives.” You said, your voice thick with sarcasm as you rolled your eyes. “You wouldn’t be the first, Okoye, or the last. It’s okay.”
“I’m an awful dancer.” She admitted, grimacing at her own legs.
“Maybe you’ve just never had the right partner.” You rationalised, hating the way that she was putting herself down. You couldn’t help but think of her as perfect, and you were disappointed she didn’t see things the same way.
Her eyes glassed over, and she stared blankly into the distance over your shoulder. “I thought that I had,” She hummed, thinking back to her old relationship. “but I was wrong.”
You almost broke the position to envelope her in a hug, but you settled for rubbed her back with you free hand. “I’m sorry, Okoye. None of that was your fault. He’s an idiot for leaving you.”
“Technically, I left him.” She corrected with a sad smile.
You nodded. “I would have done the same. He didn’t deserve you.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”
The look the two of you shared was just a second too long to be platonic, before you shook your head and cleared your throat.
“Anyway, I’ve got to teach you. Okay you take a step diagonally right, as I take a step back.” You explained, helping her as she attempted the movement. “That’s it, beautiful. Now, I’m going to move forward and turn, and you move to the left and turn too.” You continued to run through the steps, again and again and again, until the steps were flowing naturally. You were counting out the time under your breath as the two of you moved in sync. Okoye did well, moving fluidly with the expected grace of a fighter.
“There we go. Look at you. What are you talking about? You’re a natural.”
“Well maybe I finally found the right partner.” She said with a smirk.
You opened your mouth to respond but no sound came out. She noticed this and she paused for a minutes. You worried perhaps you had insulted her by not saying anything back. Meanwhile, Okoye was trying to sike herself.
Take the leap, Okoye. For Basts sake, just go for it!
“Would you go out with me?”
Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. You swallowed, trying to convinced yourself that this was real life and one of the most beautiful women on earth was asking you out. “Go out with you? Like, on a date?” You asked, your voice quivering.
She nodded, looking refined and confident and so freaking beautiful. “Yes. I’ll take you dancing. Proper Wakandan dancing.”
“I’d love too.” You said quickly, the biggest smile breaking out on you face. “That sounds wonderful.”
She smiled, and your heart nearly melted in your chest. Slowly and tentatively, you leant forward and brushed your lips together in a simple soft kiss. You sigh happily and rest your forehead against hers, shutting your eyes and enjoying the feeling of her being close. Its all you’ve wanted since you met her.
“General Okoye?” Someone behind you called out. You turned and saw a Dora standing behind to the side of the mats, eyes set on the two of you and the slight hint of a smirk ghosting her lips. You realised how compromising your position was, pressed close to her leader, and you tried to pull away, but Okoye’s grip on your hand and shoulder turned to iron, keeping you close. Her eyes narrowed slightly at the offending Dora but forced a smile.
“Yes, Ayo, what is it?” Okoye asked.
“T’Challa wants to meet with you to go over the mission plans. He requests your presence in the throne room at your earliest convenience.”
Okoye sighed. “Alright. Let him know I’ll be there in a minute. Dismissed.” She said authoritatively. Ayo saluted Okoye before turning and marching from the room. She turned her attention back to you, closing her eyes, taking a deep sigh and resting her head on your shoulder. She just wanted to stay in this moment a minute, even a second longer, but alas, duty calls.
“But I suppose we’ll have to postpone that date until you come back.” You lightly chuckled. She murmured in agreement and finally, slowly, pulled away from you, grabbing her spear from the pile of your things. “Be safe, entle.” You bid her as she reached the doorway.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” She promised.
“And I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
#writing#black panther#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel x you#marvel x y/n#black panther x reader#okoye#okoye x reader#mine#fanfiction#pride month#gay
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Date Night
(music for this fic is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xyj0Mq-YdUY)
youtube
You looked down at your phone and unlocked it. Your eyes strained at the bright light that they hadn't seen in a while. It was a mild, windy late evening and as you stood under the tree shielding you from the slight drizzle you were waiting for Guzma to show. He had been pressuring you to meet up again after the fight you had over you needing a break for your own mental health. You enjoyed being around Team Skull in the mansion but the constant loud music and disruption made it hard to sleep or even concentrate. Most nights you would be woken up by a grunt making noise. As you scrolled through your texts, you read out the last conversation you both had had in preparation for this "reunion" (Guzma's words, not yours).
Babe
Babe you there
# yea what
I wanna see u
# it's been like two days. I'm not going to the mansion with the amount of noise your grunts make
# it's why I left, remember?
I made Plumes take em all out lookin for pokemon
I made sure shes gon stay out till like at least 2 and their body clocks are fucked at that age so when they come back they all gon fall straight asleep babe
Please i wanna see u
# hhh fine as long as theres no dumb fuckery like last time
# slippery slope, bitch
# slippery slope
There aint
Like I said they all gone we have the whole place to ourselves so if u come around early we can do dinner and shit and then uh
U know
;)
--
Your face softened into a low grin as you breathed out through your nose. You'd read those last texts at least a dozen times that day and it still got you. That's why you loved him. Despite his lack of skill in communicating his feelings, you still couldn't be mad at him for long. Plus him being a bumbling idiot at times, especially when he was trying to be soft, was so endearing and cute, no matter how much he denied it when you brought it up to him.
You glanced back down at your phone.
--
# omg Guzma you fucking dope
:))
# what time you wanna meet?
I'll come get u from under the big tree on route 16 at half 8
I'll get u something nice too
# omg you're really trying aren't you lol
# see you there, then
x
# x
--
You read the timestamp on the message he sent last:
--
Read: 12:27pm
--
"I hope he hasn't forgotten... His memory is shocking sometimes..."
The light rain had started to pick up a bit. It was now audible on the wide leaves of the palm trees around the area and it had begun to seep through the smaller leaves of the tree you were under. There goes any hope of not getting soaked. You glanced back down at your phone and shot a quick look at the time.
8:27pm.
You opened the keyboard:
--
# Ayo where are you? I'm here and I'm getting wet
--
...
No response.
--
# bruh
--
You checked the clock in the corner of your screen again.
--
8:30pm
--
The rain was steadily dripping down from most of the tree cover. It was enough that a branch had bowed under the weight of water and a quick torrent of cold rainwater spilled directly onto your head and phone.
You stood there and comically stared straight forward as if you were looking into a camera to break the fourth wall in a sitcom. A large gust of wind swept up just as you clicked back to reality and all the trees on Route 16 swayed.
Shit.
You looked up as a large volume of water gushed right down on top of you, soaking you straight through in a matter of about a second. You felt it roll down your chest and back because it had infiltrated your hoodie's head hole.
Now you were getting annoyed. You debated crying but you were wet enough already thanks to the now stormy weather conditions that were almost as if Thunderus and Tornadus themselves were fighting right above you.
You pulled out your phone from your hoodie pocket. Wet, of course. The screen was awash with red, green and blue smudges because of the damp insides of your pockets. You rubbed the screen between your thighs as that was the only dry place left to do so.
--
# Guzma the fuck are you doing I am SOAKED rn
…
…
…
Oh fuck sorry i didn't see the time babe im omw
--
Fucking finally. You took one last look at the time. It was 8:35 and your battery was on 14%.
Great. You forgot your charger at your mom's house where you were staying for the week.
Two whole islands away.
KRSHHHHCUNK
Your thoughts were cut short when you heard the familiar sound of the Po Town main gate slide open, albeit in a much faster, rushed fashion than usual.
By this point you had slumped down onto the floor at the very base of the big oak tree you were being betrayed by since there was one tiny spot you could see there was no rain seeping through.
You heard squelching footsteps coming your direction at a speed comparable to a Rapidash. Oh. There he was. At last.
You could barely see 10ft in front of you because of the rain but you made out a tall white and black figure moving about through the storm.
"YO BABE WHERE YOU AT" it yelled in a low, but sharp tone.
You felt so cold that your teeth had begun to chatter. You weren't getting any good words out like this, so you pulled your phone out once again and repeatedly pressed the torch icon, creating a strobe with your nearly dead device.
Yup. He saw that.
The blur ran towards you. Now you could make out that it was indeed Guzma.
You sat on the floor, staring up at him. You were hunched into a ball, almost. To Guzma, you looked like a defenceless Caterpie. You were so cold that all you could muster was a small "m-mmm-mm" under your breath. The sound was broken up by your chattering teeth and your now quite intense shivering.
As tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, your vision began to blur. This wasn't the rain anymore. You hadn't realized it until that moment, but you'd started crying heavily. It was a mix of your stress and anger but his presence was making everything seem ok.
As soon as he realised the state you were in, he pulled out a scrunched up jacket from under the one he was wearing, stood over you, protecting you from the downpour and pulled your hoodie and shirt off. Guzma quickly wrapped you in the jacket and then pulled you up before wrapping you in his arms and making a swift (or at least as swift as possible while trying to usher along another person who can barely take decently sized steps) move towards Po Town.
No words were said. You couldn't say anything and you were almost in shock due to the cold while Guzma was focused solely on getting you to the mansion. He thought that his night was already ruined and it was all his fault. As you walked together, he rested his head on your shoulder in an attempt to let you know that everything was ok and that he was sorry. You knew that, and it was comforting to you, but all you could focus on was how cold you were. At least this was helping with warming you up.
The next few minutes were a blur to you. You were on the cusp of passing out and you felt like you were at death's front door. You told yourself not to be so dramatic, though your jaw and your midsection hurt from shivering so much.
Guzma kicked open the double doors preceding the mansion. You noticed how clean it looked but you hadn't the energy to even look around.
You felt a surge of powerlessness wash over and you and your legs gave up. You stumbled forward and since Guzma wasn't expecting it, you slipped from his grip and towards the floor. Your head narrowly avoided hitting the arm of an upholstered chair on the way down but just as quickly had you fallen had the man picked you up and flung you over his right shoulder.
"Shit, you ok?" He said softly, trying to hide the worry in his inflection.
#i was in a mood last night so i started this for like no reason#guzma x reader#pokemon#pokemon sun and moon#guzma#and yea the reader's gender is kept ambiguous which happened a bit by accident hah#fic#sfw#fluff#team skull
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